When The Bough Breaks
by I hart Booth
Summary: When his mother gets sick, Booth must gohome to Pittsburgh, where he is forced to confront his relationship with his estranged brother and only keeping in contact with his life in DC with emails and phone calls. *ON HIATUS Until Further Notice*
1. And So It Begins

**So here it is, my latest Multi-Chap fic. I've been working on it in 'secret' now for what feels like months and it's finally ready. Well, as ready as it's gonna get because I can't not post it any longer! I'm leaving for Chicago tomorrow so I'm posting a day early because I've decided to follow Lacey aka Niah's example in the posting once a week thing. And Thursday works best for me, except this week. So I obviously won't be giving you any hints as to what's about to happen, but I wanted to tell you about the Title, it's from a well-known Lullaby which I think speaks volumes as to what this fic will be about, if you like to over analyze things the way I do. And it seems extreamly creepy if you imagine it being ominously sung by a boy's choir while you sneak around in a scary dark house. Enjoy!**

**HUGE HUGE thanks to my awesome Beta: Niah1988. Luv you!

* * *

**

_Rock-a-bye baby  
In the treetop  
When the wind blows  
The cradle will rock  
When the bough breaks  
the cradle will fall  
and down will come baby  
cradle and all_

**Royal Diner  
Washington D. C.  
September 17th**

The diner was busy for a Thursday night but it didn't really bother them at all. The partners, who frequented this diner so often they'd almost become as much a part of the atmosphere as the early 1950's decoration, didn't notice the dull roar of a busy dinner hour. Per their routine, they'd stopped for a bite to eat after closing their latest case, talking and bickering in turn over a plate of French fries Booth had conceded to sharing, until they were interrupted by mechanical chirp from the breast pocket of his jacket.

Brennan did not pause in her impromptu discourse on Ritual African Healing Dances as he listened to his voice mail message until the playful grin he wore as he brushed off her 'squint talk' faded into something more reminiscent of a frown. She stopped and watched him as the recording finished, wondering what would make him look so troubled all of a sudden.

"Everything okay?"

Booth nodded as he shut his phone, slipping it back into his pocket. "Yeah, just a voice mail from my dad, he must've called while we were interrogating Thompson."

Brennan raised her eyebrows while drizzling dressing over her salad, "Your father? That's unusual."

"I know, he didn't say what it was about," he shrugged, the frown dissolving into a grin once more, "maybe he wants to know why you still haven't figured out how to apprehend a suspect without shooting him."

"Well I wouldn't have had to shoot him if you hadn't let him get away," Brennan chided, smiling as she helped herself to a portion of the fries. Booth practically gagged on his Pepsi.

"_I_ let the guy go? You're the one who distracted me with all your talk of unconventional sex practices."

"Why I-," her eyes were wide in that expression of righteous indignation he loved, "It was pertinent to the investigation. It's not my fault your outdated Christian sense of morality makes you immobile at the very mention of sexual interaction."

Booth rolled his eyes and sat back from the table, wiping his face with a napkin. "Now Bones, don't go and ruin a perfectly good conversation with an attack on my religion."

Brennan sighed and bit back a no-doubt snappy retort and shrugged, looking down at her salad.

* * *

**Ziggy's Bar and Pool Hall  
Philadelphia, PA  
September 17th**

Their group was an intimidating one to say the least, while they'd left the rifles in the car, combat boots, S.W.A.T emblazoned in yellow on their green shirts and a tell tale black holster on their hips made anyone who might want to pick a fight, think twice.

They hadn't slept in eighteen hours, twelve of which had been spent in a standoff at a bank with a group of guys armed with enough artillery to fuel a small nuclear power plant. And despite this, the seven members of the Philadelphia Special Weapons and Tactics team could be found joking over drinks into the early morning hours at Ziggy's Bar and Pool Hall.

"Look, if Tucker hadn't been staring down that scope, eyes peeled like he does, your ass would be in a sling," TJ called out before slamming back the rest of her straight shot of scotch. Her voice was gravely from cigarettes and fatigue and she sat with one booted foot propped up on the stool beside her.

"In a sling? Hell he'd be lucky if his ass wasn't Swiss Cheese with the way they were firing rounds," Hutchinson said pointing across the table at his companion with his beer bottle. The other man just smiled and shook his head, leaning back lazily in his own seat, feet still clad in black combat boots resting easy on the table.

"Get the fuck outta here, I was fine. All the kid did was buy me some time to get another clear shot on my targets." He shook his head and ordered another beer.

* * *

**Royal Diner  
****Washington D.C.  
****September 17****th**

Booth was silent as she played with her food, staring at her long enough and hard enough to finally unnerve her.

"What?"

He gave her a crooked grin and sat forward, leaning his folded arms on the table.

"Bones?"

She raised her eyebrows in response as she took a sip of her iced tea.

"I've been wondering…was kissing me really like kissing Russ?" he asked, with bluntness one thought only Brennan herself had mastered.

She swallowed and blinked a few times at the table before looking up at him, a narrow eyed smirk on her face.

"You've been wondering, huh?"

Booth shrugged. "Call it male ego."

"I do."

He sighed, coaxing her with his eyes. "C'mon Bones. Really? Your brother?"

It was Brennan who sighed then, and took several moments to study the floor and collect her thoughts. There were so many different feelings conjured up by memories of that day in her office. Some good, some bad, but most of them scary and truth be told she preferred not to think about that day at all, it was certainly less distracting that way. Not that she was going to admit any of that to her 'hyper macho, sexual ego the size of a blimp' partner.

Pursing her lips, she dipped her head in a miniscule nod of admission, "No. I've only kissed Russ a few times, and only on the cheek. But if I were to objectively compare the kiss we shared to those I have previously experienced…I can honestly say it was…unlike any other I've had. You far surpassed my expectations," she finished clinically.

Booth cleared his throat and reached for his water. "A simple 'no' would've sufficed."

She looked up to see his face from his chin to his ears to where his forehead disappeared below his hair was all fire engine red. And while on the outside he was focusing on resembling something close to nonchalance, on the inside he was still reeling from the fact that she'd had _expectations_ coming into the kiss. And he found himself wondering if it stemmed merely from the deal Caroline had put forth, or if she'd been contemplating the idea for as long as he had, namely, forever.

Feeling her laughing gaze on his skin, he busied himself with extracting his wallet from his back pocket and slapped a few bills on the table.

"It's my turn," he muttered, silencing her protest before it began.

He stood, pulling out the knot in his tie and flinging his jacket over his shoulder, tired after a full fourteen-hour day of work, but somehow still not quite ready to head home to an empty apartment.

"Let's go for a walk."

* * *

**A Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****September 17****th**

The house hadn't been in this state of disarray since the boys were in diapers. Susan was strong-willed that way. She refused to be the mousy housewife always shown on TV, she liked to take charge. Their house ran like a well-oiled machine for twenty years until both boys moved out, joined the Army and got their own lives. After that, there was really no mess to be cleaned, but Susan kept it spotless anyway. Now James looked around and felt a little pang of guilt, if his wife had the energy, she'd rip him a new one for letting the house get this way. Dishes in the sink, clothes overflowing from the hamper, the furniture and picture frames hadn't seen the touch of a duster in what seemed like years.

He ran a large hand through his thinning dark hair and turned toward the telephone. That was why he'd come down here, he now remembered. She'd begun asking for them and, while he resented the implication that he needed help running his own house, it was probably true. At least for the moment. But, being the understanding woman she was, Susan never said anything about his ineptitude in the cleaning department; she instead insisted it was for her own benefit that their boys come home for a while. And James had never really been able to deny his wife anything she asked for.

So, he picked up the phone and dialed the number.

* * *

**Royal Diner  
****Washington D.C.  
****September 17****th**

Brennan gave him an appraising stare for a few moments, complete with a raised eyebrow, before it softened into a smile. She stood, brushing past his outstretched hand with a roll of her eyes, mumbling something about 'perfectly capable' and 'act so archaic' so that all he could do was laugh.

He followed her out of the diner and slung his arm casually over her shoulder, silently daring her to protest. But she didn't, and if she minded, she didn't say so. It occurred to him around the corner and halfway down the street that he hadn't gone on an evening walk in years, maybe even since he'd been with Rebecca.

"Really?" Brennan asked, when he shared that with her. "I don't think I ever have."

She tensed slightly at the appalled look on his face and tried to shrug off his arm, despite the warmth his body was providing her against the unusually cool evening air in late August. But Booth was having none of that and he only held onto her tighter.

"How is it, Bones," he continued, effectively ignoring her escape attempt, "that none of the wide assortment of men you've dated never took you to do one of the most simple, romantic, 'Dating 101' things there is?"

Booth watched carefully out of the corner of his eye as she deliberately avoided turning her face in his direction.

She shrugged. "Well, I didn't go on my first date until I was in college. Dad wouldn't allow it and after that…well, being neither popular nor pretty, I wasn't exactly at the top of anyone's 'must date' list," she explained, smoothly passing over Booth's implication that evening walks were 'romantic' and a basic 'dating' tactic.

Hearing her describe herself as 'not pretty' made his insides twist, but he was careful to keep his face neutral and his arm on her shoulders light, afraid if he moved she would realize how much she was revealing and shut down.

"And when I got to college I was really only interested in sexual gratification, and I made it very clear to anyone who expressed interest. Moonlight walks through the Common weren't really on the agenda."

She finished and they rounded the corner, completing the circuit around the small block they'd been walking. There was a gentle breeze in the air, just enough to make their cheeks and the tips of their ears pink and they unconsciously shrunk closer to each other's warmth.

"I can only imagine Bones," he murmured quietly, smiling at the thought of a young, fiery Brennan scaring the shit out of some poor college co-ed with a blindingly blunt 'let's have sex' speech.

They were silent much of the way back to the SUV, their exhaustion getting the better of them.

"You know Bones," he began quietly, not waiting for her response, "hypothetically speaking, if we had gone to school together…I think you would have been on my 'must date' list." _At the top of it, actually._

Brennan stopped, pulled away from his arm and turned to face him. Booth was surprised to find amusement in her eyes where he'd been expecting horror.

"I highly doubt that Booth."

"Why?"

"Because. I was…a science geek and you were one of _those_ guys."

Booth scoffed, turning to continue toward the SUV, Brennan quickly fell into step beside him.

"What's that got to do with anything Bones?"

"It has everything to do with it. The social hierarchy of High School would not have tolerated that kind of violent shift in its organizational structure. It would have been impossible."

Booth shook his head, as she quickened her step, getting a burst of energy from what she perceived to be a won argument. He followed her to her door, but stopped her from opening it and he waited until she turned to him before speaking.

"Well, I'll have you know that sometimes _that_ guy does go for the science genius girl."

Brennan raised an eyebrow and pulled open her door. "Present me with evidence Booth, and then I may be inclined to change my position. Until you do, it's nothing but baseless theories."

She shut her door and turned to the dash, a smile on her face that said she was more than satisfied with her rational, entirely logical argument.

Booth remained outside her window for just a moment more, watching her, before crossing heading around to his own side.

_I'll give you evidence…_

* * *

**Ziggy's Bar and Pool Hall  
Philadelphia, PA  
September 17th**

"_But_, since ol' Tuck here did manage to not shoot anybody on _our_ side today, here's to _nobody_ getting turned into Swiss cheese." The group raised their glasses slowly, suspiciously quirking their brows, "and the next time we've got one of those stupid-ass Efficiency training exercises, I want little Tucker to have _my_ back."

"Jared, everybody knows the only back you've got is your own," TJ scoffed, rolling her eyes as she put her drink back down.

"Yeah, don't you try none of that punk shit," Hutchinson added.

The man grinned and winked at the woman, who would have beat his ass had she been sober enough to recognize it.

More profanity and friendly jibbing were exchanged and went unnoticed by the other seedy characters in the small bar who were busy playing pool on worn-out green felt tables, or smoking and drinking in darkened booths.

"Hey, you guys hear that?" Tucker said. It was the first time he'd spoken all night. No matter how the others tried to distract him, he was new to this job and he'd never taken another man's life before. It would be a long night of drinking for him before he could get to sleep.

TJ rolled her eyes. "You hearing things again, kid?"

"No, no really."

They stopped and after a moment turned to Jared, who was too busy mentally undressing a girl at the other end of the bar to notice.

"Yo, Romeo. Your ass is ringing," Hutchinson called, throwing a balled up napkin in his face.

"Oh," Jared said, reaching into his back pocket he took out his cell phone. "Hello?" The others of his group were laughing and yelling and generally being non-conducive to talking on the phone so he got up and walked outside.

"Dad? Hey, is everything alright?"

* * *

**FBI Vehicle #2205  
****Washington D.C.  
****September 17****th**

They spent the short ride to her apartment immersed in idle chatter. Booth mentioned that he had Parker that weekend and was planning to take him to a baseball game. Brennan had a phone conference planned with her editor and possibly a visit to see her father and Russ, but only if she found the time.

When he stopped the car, she gathered her things and got out, only to find he had done the same.

As he rounded the car and approached her, a familiar look of two parts determination, one part mischief in his eyes, she grew tense. It was a look she wasn't used to seeing pointed in her direction.

"Booth what are you…"

He didn't give her a chance to finish. He saw her eyes widen to a near painful degree as he stepped inside her personal space, gently took hold of her face, and pressed his lips to hers. It was brief and light, but had the advantage over their first kiss of being private and away from all forms of shrubbery.

He felt his heart pounding under every inch of his skin and had the pleasant, but very strange, feeling of floating as he pulled back. And he had a hunch that, if he made it out of this with his dignity and limbs intact, there was a good chance his partner felt the same.

With a shy smile he stepped back and said in a quiet voice she could just barely hear over the rustle of Autumn leaves, "Enough evidence for you, Bones?"

When she didn't move and didn't change the stunned, surprised expression on her face, he stepped away slowly and returned to his car without looking back. By the time he'd gotten in and turned the ignition, she'd already disappeared inside her building.

"That was either really stupid, or really brilliant," he sighed and rolled his shoulders, pulling out into traffic. "I guess we'll see."

With the firm resolve not to analyze his relationship with his partner any more that night, a resolve he was almost certain to break, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a familiar number.

"Hey Dad, sorry to call so late, but I got your message. What's going on?"

* * *

**A Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****September 17****th**

The unearthly light of dusk, gray with hints of pink and orange of the setting sun, filtered in through broad windows on the West wall. He couldn't be sure how long he'd been standing there, in the doorway, watching shadows lengthen across her sleeping face, but he was sure it had been for a while. Today hadn't been one of the better days. She'd had a lot of pain and slept for hours on end. Days like these worried him, because a small, dark, terrified part of him was sure they would be her last. And if he lost her, it would be worse than losing a piece of himself. It would be a massive hole in his whole world that would lead straight through his heart, the type of wound that he might never recover from until the day he was allowed to follow her to heaven. And he wasn't ready.

She stirred and reminded him why he was there. With a quiet sigh, because he hated why he was there, he entered the room and softly bid her to sit up straight. When she did, he handed her the water and a handful of pills, which she took without complaint. Then she looked up at him, eyes warm and blue with as much love as they'd had almost forty years ago on their first date. He took her hand and sat down beside her. When he kissed her forehead she let her eyes drift shut and he watched the sun drop down below the horizon.


	2. Brothers Dearest

**A/N: I had to make a few minor corrections to the time stamps and I forgot to thank my beta, Niah1988 for her wonderful job. So I am reposting this. Repeat: _Nothing really new here if you've already read it_, sorry for any confusion. **

**So I was absolutly blown away by the response to the first chap, I'm SO happy everyone is so psyked. I am too! Yay us!!...whoa. Gotta stop watching The Suite Life of Zach and Cody...okay, anyway. From this point on you're going to have to pay close attention to the Time/Location stamps. I'm going to be jumping around a little bit and I don't want you to get confused, so don't just skip over those. I think that's it for now. Enjoy!

* * *

********Brennan's Residence  
****Washington D.C.  
****September 17****th**

With her ear buds in and bopping to her Cat Power Greatest Hits album, one hand stuffed into a box of Cheez-its, the other navigating _forensic anthropology. org_ one would have thought that Brennan was as good as dead to the world. But, being a doctor, she knew better than to play her music at an ear damaging level, and quite easily heard the knock on her door over the ending notes of Cross Bones Style.

Unfolding her legs, she moved her laptop to the coffee table and got up to answer the door.

"Booth." She involuntarily gripped the doorknob tighter when she saw him through the peephole, fearing the worst. The worst being, that he'd come to follow up on the kiss he'd initiated earlier. A subject that had seemed so daunting and complicated at the time, it had spurned her into an evening of distraction filled with Cat Power, research and carbs. Her mind was already whirling with thoughts of what to say now that he was there, so she hardly noticed herself opening the door and ushering him in.

"I'm actually glad you're here," she blurted out, unsure as to where the words were coming from. She folded her arms over her chest, not at all embarrassed to be seen in her short pajama shorts and a tank top; she wasn't naked after all. "I think we should talk about what happened…"

She looked up at him and stopped short. He didn't look nervous or determined, like she'd expected him to. His hair didn't have the tell tale messed look that was indicative of time spent pacing and reflecting in his apartment. He really only looked…tired.

"Booth, is everything alright?" She tilted her head. He stood with his hands dug deep into his pockets staring at the floor. He was a little bit pale and seemed distracted. Unlike the first time she'd asked him that question, earlier in the diner, she was convinced that the answer to her question would be in the vicinity of 'negative'.

With a deep breath, he brought a hand up to his neck and massaged the muscles there absently.

"I'm leaving for Pittsburgh in the morning," he said with a note of finality that made her step back involuntarily.

"What? Why?" She tried hard not to let the panic she felt seeping into her belly show in her voice. It was her knee-jerk reaction to immediately protest when she felt something important being taken away, or worse, leaving of its own accord. And she was not so oblivious as to try and deny that Booth was important to her. But while she could feel the heat of anger born through fear building in her chest, she did her best to keep it at bay and wait patiently for him to explain. It was the only rational thing to do.

"You remember when I went home for the weekend a few months ago?" he asked slowly.

"Yes, your mother had been diagnosed with cancer." Her stomach dropped along with the anger and her eyes grew wide. "Oh no, Booth…"

He shook his head, immediately putting her mind at ease. "No, she's still hanging in there. Still fighting. But I returned my dad's call and he says she's not doing so well right now and he wants my brother and me to come home for a few weeks and help him out. You know…with chores and stuff." He sighed and rubbed his face, dropping into a nearby dining room chair. "I, uh, haven't even had time to call Rebecca. I was going to but it was so late that…Hey, I didn't wake you up, did I?" he asked, suddenly concerned. She glanced at the clock and noticed for the first time that it was nearing 1am.

She shook her head. "No, I was up already. Research."

Booth nodded and dropped his head again, this time looking more fatigued than before and she frowned. "Are you going to be alright? Have you tried to get any sleep?"

Again he shook his head, as if speaking simply required too much energy. "No, I had to book a last minute flight and I've gotta go home and finish packing. I just didn't want to leave without letting you know what's going on."

"Oh," she nodded and looked away, touched that he would think of her even when his life was suddenly turned upside down. He rubbed his eyes once more, trying to wake up, and stood slowly.

"Well I better get going." He started for the door. She watched him go silently, concerned for his well-being, but unsure how to express it. Just as his hand hit the doorknob, it occurred to her.

She moved quickly and stepped between him and the door, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest.

"Bones…" he started.

"Shut up Booth," she muttered into his shirt. "It's a guy hug."

The rumble of his soft chuckle vibrated against her cheek and chest and when he returned the gesture with an added squeeze, she smiled just a little bit, and stepped back. He looked at her for the first time and grinned.

"I'll see you in a few Bones," he said, pulling the door open and moving out into the cool hallway.

She nodded and stood in the door watching him go, noting that he hadn't specified 'a few' what. Days? Weeks? The vagueness of it all made her stomach twist.

"Hey, Booth."

He stopped and turned.

"Call me when you land. It can be dangerous, flying this time of year," she added quickly.

Booth smiled teasingly. "September?"

"Yes," she confirmed self-assuredly.

He nodded. "I will."

She watched him go, pushing aside the unsettling voice in her brain that said 'everything is about to change'.

* * *

**Booth Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****September 18****th**

He stepped out of the taxi and absently paid the driver, deliberately not looking toward the house. It wasn't until the dust from the gravel the car kicked up as it drove off had settled and he was alone with the sound of birds chirping in the trees, that he finally saw it. It honestly hadn't changed that much, why would it have? Two stories, white with green trim, filled to the brim with childhood memories. Why should it have changed at all?

He adjusted his heavy black duffel on his shoulder and marched purposefully up the walk to the wide wrap-around porch, and then pushed open the front door.

Again, not much had changed. The same blue couch with the multicolored pillows, the same light brown carpet, the same huge round oak dining room table. It was comforting and at the same time, unsettling.

"Seeley?" Booth looked up past the couch and into the dining room where his father was descending the stairs from the second floor.

"Hey, dad." He smiled as his father crossed the room toward him and wrapped him in a strong hug. His father was the same too, smelled of aftershave and cologne, the same way he'd smelt for all 35 years of Booth's life.

"Hi, Seel." His dad moved his hand to Booth's back and ushered him further into the house. "How was your trip?"

"Fine," Booth shrugged. Glancing around, he saw a sink full of dishes and the dining room table, which his mother was usually so picky about only being for food, was covered in what looked like medical research papers. "How's, um, how's mom?"

Booth had to give his dad credit, his smile never slipped, and if he hadn't recognized it as the one his father always used when trying to be brave, it would have made him feel better. "She's sleeping. Why don't you go get settled and then come back down here. I want to talk to you and your brother before you head up to see her."

"Is he already here?"

"No, not yet."

Booth rolled his eyes, moving toward the stairs at the back of the dining room, butted up against the wall of the spare bedroom/laundry area. "Figures, he probably rode that bike of his so instead of a half-hour flight he can take a six hour ride."

"Seeley," his father's warning tone made him stop in his tracks and feel fourteen years old again, "this isn't going to be a problem is it?"

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently, shifting the weight of his bag on his shoulder.

"I know you and your brother don't see eye to eye, but your mother wants you both here. So for the time being do you think you could cut him some slack?"

Booth took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine."

* * *

**Jeffersonian Institution  
****Washington D.C.  
****September 18****th**

The next day found Brennan in her office at the tick of eight, already immersed in returning emails and getting ready for another work day. Around eight-thirty a knock at the door caught her attention long enough for her to mumble permission for entrance.

"Hey Bren, who's that guy?" Angela leaned against the doorframe in her lab coat, a sketchpad in one hand, a hot mug of coffee in the other, doing her best to keep her eyes open. A morning person, Angela was not, especially not after the late night she and Hodgins had. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, very good, but now…

Brennan glanced up. A well-dressed young man in a tailored suit was at the top of the stairs, making wide gestures to the security officer who had, apparently, come to apprehend him when he set off the alarm. "If I were to guess, I would say the FBI liaison."

Angela frowned. "Where's Booth? You didn't get into a fight, did you?"

Brennan sighed and sat back from her computer. "No. I spoke to him last night. He had to leave early this morning on a family emergency. His mother has cancer and I guess she's not doing as well as they'd hoped."

Angela moved to sit in a chair opposite Brennan, looking as if she'd been kicked in the chest. "Oh my God, that's horrible."

Brennan nodded, staring at her hands. "He's supposed to call me soon to let me know he got there safely."

"How is he taking it?"

"He seems…distracted. Worried. I don't think he really knows what's expected of him." She looked away and stared blankly out into the lab. "He's an adult going back home to care for his sick mother, the caregiver has become the caretaker. The familial roles are blurred. Skewed." Shaking her head absently, she finally looked up only to find Angela staring at her. "What?"

"Sweetie," she leaned forward over her sketchpad on her lap, "are you sure we're still talking about Booth here?"

"What do you mean? Of course we are. What else?"

Angela debated answering that as straightforwardly as it was asked, but decided now was perhaps the time for gentle leading by the hand. "You're his best friend, Bren, you'll know the right thing to do when the time comes."

Brennan looked lost. "What are you talking about, Angela?" She played dumb, but nonetheless her friend's words put her at ease. Not wishing Angela to read into her thoughts any more than she already could, she sat forward to scribble a few notes on her desk calendar, effectively diverting her gaze.

But Angela was as perceptive as she was persistent. "Are you sure that's all?" she coaxed, one last time.

Brennan hesitated, debating affirming her question and leaving it at that, or telling her about the kiss, which she had yet to fully process. To her surprise, she found herself talking about something much more profound than an unplanned lip lock. "Well, it's just that…he came by my apartment last night, to tell me he was leaving."

"Mmm-hmm." She sipped her coffee but kept her eyes on Brennan as she spoke.

"Well, when he told me he was going to be going home for a few weeks…my first reaction was…" She made a pained face.

"You didn't want him to go."

"Which is simply unacceptable. He had every right to go and I had _no_ right to ask him to stay and yet…"

"You wanted to."

"Yes," she answered, half defensive, half bewildered. Angela sat forward and reached for her hands.

"Brennan, Booth will always come back. That's the difference between him and every other man you've ever trusted. He _will_ come back, until then, just be his friend. Be there for him when he needs you, that's all anybody wants."

* * *

**Booth Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****September 18****th**

Booth dropped his canvas duffel on his bed, and rubbed his face. The same bed that had been his the day they moved into this house when he was six, the same bed he'd gotten to second base on for the first time in high school. He used to hide under the covers on this bed when the thunderstorms rolled over their house.

He was a bit unnerved at how much he wanted to climb under those stupid navy blue plaid covers in that moment and wait until the wind carried his problems away, the way it had when he was a kid.

Straightening, he pursed his lips and turned, leaving the bed and its covers neat and undisturbed.

He immediately made a bee-line for the stairs, which were directly across from his bedroom. In between was a large open space indicative of the early 19th century construction of the home, back before people were worried about fitting everything they could into the tiniest possible area. It was a large open foyer space from where all the other doors extended off of.

The opening for the stairs was right next to the door to his parents' bedroom and he found himself lingering there, knowing his mother was on the other side. He leaned closer to the door, expecting to hear his parent's whispering since that was where his dad had said he was going, but it was silent. He wanted to open the door and see her, just for a moment to know she was alright, but decided it was childish of him to have such a desire, told himself to 'man up' and forced himself down the stairs without looking back.

From the bottom of the stairs one could look straight ahead and see the opening to the kitchen, or to the left where the dining room actually became a great room and melded with the living room. Booth instead turned right out the back door and sat on the back steps of the wooden deck his father had built when he was in grade school.

He scanned the backyard from the edge of the garage to the large maple tree with the tire swing, letting the sun warm his shoulders and back. A few particularly zealous leaves had already started to turn orange and one broke loose and floated to the ground on the gentle breeze. The soft motion jolted Booth rather suddenly into the realization of how much time had passed since he'd left the airport. He began fumbling in his pockets for his cell phone.

"Brennan."

"Hey Bones," he answered her cool greeting, unsure of why it elicited a smile from him.

"Booth, you've landed?"

"I am, as we speak, seated on the deck behind my parent's house. I forgot to call you."

"Oh…" He heard the rustle of clothing and in his mind's eye she was cradling the phone between her ear and the shoulder of her blue lab coat, probably making some gesture to Zach as she pulled off her latex gloves. "Have you seen your mother yet?"

He held his breath for half a second before answering. "No, my dad wants to talk to Jared and me first." A shadow caught his eye and he looked up to see a hawk floating over head. "He's not here yet." It dove out of the sky toward a mouse it had spotted in the wheat field behind their home.

"I see. Well, I'm glad you made it safely."

He grinned. "Yeah, I was extra careful after your warning of how dangerous September flying can be."

"I get the distinct impression you're making fun of me, Agent Booth."

He furrowed his brows, wondering if that was a flirty tone he was sensing in her voice or if it was just an audio hallucination from his over worked, under rested mind. "Well there could be good reason for that, Dr. Brennan," he responded in kind.

He could hear her smile through the phone and found himself smiling in return. "You know Bones, I…" He trailed off when a sound like thunder or a thousand horses stampeding up his street reached his ears. He stood, making his way along the back of the house toward the garage and the driveway, just in time to see his brother pull in riding Shelby.

"What's that noise?"

"That, Bones, would be my brother." He sighed, doing his best not to groan.

"Does he drive a truck or something?"

"No. A Harley."

Jared looked up at him for the first time, but his expression was unreadable behind his dark sunglasses and the white scarf he wore around his neck.

"Great," Booth muttered, momentarily forgetting that he was on the phone.

"That doesn't sound like a sincere 'great'."

Booth sighed again, the noise had died down on her end and he thought she had probably gone to her office. It seemed like a very considerate thing for her to do, drop everything so she could focus on talking to him, so he decided to be generous.

"Well, I guess it's not really. My brother and I, we don't exactly…mix well."

"Really?" He could almost hear her eyebrows raising. "That's too bad."

He nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see him over the phone, and gave a half hearted wave as Jared killed the engine on his bike and their father came out of the house. "Look Bones, I'll have to call you back."

"Oh, okay," she said. "But Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget what you once told me."

"And what's that Bones?" He had a feeling he was about to wish his partner didn't have such a great memory.

"When I was upset with Russ and refusing to see him, you said 'Bones, you don't have to like him all the time, you don't even have to think much of him, but he's still your brother'. Brothers are special, Booth." Then she hung up, as if she'd just finished reciting a piece of trivia she'd learned from Jeopardy and not imparted a piece of well-earned wisdom that would make a monk proud.

With a minuscule smile, he flipped the phone shut and pushed it into his pocket.

"Seeley, I'm kind of surprised to see you here. what happened? You finally get bored with the rules and regs of FBI life?" Jared's smile didn't quite mask the undertone of antagonism in his voice as he dismounted his motorcycle and began untying the bags he had strapped to the back.

"Jared." Their father's warning tone stopped his wise-ass remarks, but couldn't wipe the smug smile off his face.

"I see SWAT hasn't been any more successful at teaching you to control your big mouth than the Army was, Jared," Booth retorted with faux brightness and a smile that was neither sincere nor playful.

"No, not really, but then, they're more worried about how straight I shoot than they are whether or not I'm keeping all my ducks in a row." He grunted as he pulled his bag up onto his shoulder and gave a wide, gum popping grin to his brother.

Booth opened his mouth just as his father caught his eye and he didn't miss the pleading undercurrent of the man's stare. So, out of courtesy to him, he shut it again and let his younger brother have the last word and watched him saunter inside.

When he was alone and his father had also gone, he let out a long breath, turning his head from side to side, his muscles already beginning to tense. With a long sigh he started inside. "Asshole."

_TBC_


	3. One Hell of a Family Reunion

**Again I am so much more than thrilled at the response to this fic. It's again one of those where I'm really trying to stretch myself to create a logical, believable, plot intensive, (In) character intensive multi-chap fic where I feel like every chap is a sink or swim ordeal, and I'm two seconds away from needing a life vest. (phew, enough analogy for you?) So all the encouragment is both appreciated and more needed than you probably realize. **

**A/N: Stupid ff . net content manager won't let me use the 'a' sign you use in email so _at_ will be in place of that at the end. You'll see what I mean. Also, there was a question from an anonymous reviewer, _katie,_ about Jared in the last chap, so I'll clarify. Most fics portray Jared as Booth's older brother, but it's never actually been specified on the show, so I decided to go the other way with this fic. **

**Another big thanks to my lovely beta: Niah1988. HUGZ! **

**Booth Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****September 18th**

When Booth got inside, his brother had already dumped his bag on the couch and was talking quietly with their father near the base of the stairs in the dining room. James looked up and saw him, motioning for him to join them at the table.

"I want to talk to you boys before you go upstairs to see your mother," he began, pacing behind the table. Booth noticed for the first time that he seemed to have a lot more gray in his hair than the last time he'd seen him.

Jared on the other hand, who was straddling a dining room chair backwards, unzipping his leather jacket, looked just about the same as always. His dark brown hair carefully gelled in intentional disorder, a gold earring in his left ear and a the small scar on his cheek he'd gotten the same day Booth got his scar on his right hip.

Booth sat opposite his brother at the table and waited for their father to continue.

"She's just finished her Chemotherapy treatments, so she's going to look very different from the last time you saw her. She started radiation two weeks ago." He paused in his pacing and inexplicably began staring out the window into the backyard; he was quiet for so long that Jared and Booth exchanged a glance, wondering what had happened.

Then, just as suddenly, he resumed pacing and started talking again, "Her spirits are up, which isn't surprising, you know your mother." Booth nodded and Jared smiled at the floor. Yes, they certainly knew their 'bottled hurricane' mother. "But the chemo made her white blood cell count very low so obviously we were being very careful about exposing her to things that could attack her weak immune system. And now the radiation makes her so damn tired she can't hardly do anything." He paused to rub his temples and Jared and Booth sent another glance in each other's direction. "She needs to drink lots of fluids to flush toxins out of her system. If when the radiation is over the doctors don't see enough of an improvement it's possible that more drastic measures will have to be taken later on down the line."

"What kind of measures?" Booth frowned, the word 'drastic' rarely meant there were good things to look foreword to.

His father looked troubled by the question. "We'll deal with that when it gets there, Seeley."

"_If _it gets there," Jared corrected quietly. Booth and his father looked at him, but he didn't look up, his chin resting on his arms crossed on the back of the chair. Booth made a face at him, he wasn't used to seeing his younger brother, who prided himself on his 'laid back' persona, looking so intense and fretful.

"Right. If. Alright so, the radiation treatments make her tired so she'll be sleeping a lot and I need you two to try and treat each other like brothers instead of enemies," James said, pointedly letting his gaze linger on each of his sons' downcast faces. "Do I make myself clear?"

The two nodded and he sighed, the short speech seemed to have drained all his energy.

"I'll go tell your mother you're here." He started for the stairs and Booth suddenly stood.

"Dad, why are we here?" James stopped and turned around. Booth continued quickly, "I mean if mom's doing as well as you say, why did you all of a sudden summon us here as soon as possible?"

Jared looked up, very interested in his father's response.

Bracing himself on the banister, James leaned forward, looking exhausted just thinking of the answer, "Your mom thinks I need help around the house. _She_ wants you here."

"Is that the only reason?" Booth asked, studying his father's tired features carefully, and he rushed the painful words out of his mouth before he had a chance to regret them, "Dad, are we here to say 'goodbye'?"

James held his son's gaze for several moments, swallowing hard, choosing his words carefully.

"Seeley, your mother is a strong woman, but this cancer isn't going to just go away. You're here because she wants you here and because I need your help. Anything beyond that just isn't my concern right now."

Booth blinked and then nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his green jacket. He was now a little bit warm, even though all he had on beside it was a black t-shirt and jeans. When their father disappeared up the stairs, Jared stood slowly and walked to the window.

The silence was intense and amplified by the ticking of a teapot shaped clock on the wall in the kitchen. Booth was lost in his own thoughts of Bones mingling with thoughts of his mother for a moment, but was soon brought out of it by the sound of clicking from the other side of the table. He looked up to find Jared staring blankly at the floor, cracking his knuckles. He frowned, the gesture was only vaguely familiar to him, only twice had he seen it before. The first was right before he got the results of his driving test when he was sixteen, and the second was all through their last family dinner before being deployed to the Gulf.

It was odd to see his normally overly laid-back brother showing such an obvious display of tension, but he pushed is aside for the time being and decided to make his best attempt at having conversation. After all, their father had asked this one thing of them, he should at least give this 'not enemies' thing a shot.

"You got here quick. It's a six hour drive from Philly."

Jared seemed a bit surprised at the benign comment, he and his brother rarely engaged in small talk. With a shrug, he shook out his hands and rubbed them on the thighs of his jeans. He took a stab at civility with his answer, "Yeah, well I left as soon as I got Dad's call. And I know where all the speed traps are so…"

He trailed off but Booth clearly heard what he wasn't saying.

"Unbelievable." He muttered, shaking his head.

Jared looked over, his small grin dropping away. "What? What's unbelievable?"

"You are," Booth looked up, anger flashing across his eyes and just like that, 'civility' flew out the window. "That bike is a death trap as it is with the way you ride it and that's when you're _not_ going 200 miles an hour."

"Shit Seeley don't start with me, alright? I'm a good driver." Jared rose from his chair, agitated. There were many things he could take, and had had taken from him, but his bike was different. It was his holy grail. "Just 'cause you're scared…"

"It's got nothing to do with me being scared Jared," Booth shook his head with a bitter smile, "I just can't believe you're still so careless with your own life. You're not invincible you know."

"I know that Seeley I just…" Jared cut himself off and met his brother's studious gaze. They had both been careful not to raise their voices, and yet were flushed with the intensity of the argument. He set his teeth and turned toward the window, counting to ten, "Lets just not do this alright? You heard what dad said."

Booth gritted his teeth and glanced at the stairs, his eyes unwittingly falling on a small picture of their family he and Jared were in high school on a shelf.

Jared, now standing several feet away with his back to the room, was quiet for a few seconds and then said quietly, "Ceasefire?"

With a deep breath, Booth agreed. "Fine. Ceasefire."

He asked as casually as he could, a few minutes later, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "How's Parker?" He was perfectly still waiting for the answer, staring out into the back yard.

"He's good, he'll be six in November," Booth responded quietly, not moving from his spot on the other side of the table. He shoved one hand in his pocket and glanced at the stairs, but his father didn't appear.

"I know," Jared said, his form remaining rigid in the soft natural light that bathed the room. Booth nodded, he'd always been impressed that despite all the bad blood between them, his little brother never forgot to send a card to his nephew on his birthday.

"How's…" Booth paused, trying to remember which woman in the long line of women his brother had been with, was the most recent, "Kim?"

Booth thought he saw a change in the way Jared was standing, but couldn't be sure. "I wouldn't know. We're not…you know, together or whatever." He shrugged to punctuate the statement.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Jared shook his head, turning so he could lean back against the wall. "I don't have any regrets."

"You never do."

Jared smiled and Booth couldn't help but notice a shadow of sadness that seemed to cloak the gesture, but he didn't comment.

They turned their heads when they heard their father's voice from the top of the stairs.

"You go ahead," Jared acquiesced, "I'll get settled into my room first and then go see her."

Booth nodded and quickly ascended the stairs, leaving his brother alone.

"Mom?" He knocked lightly on the door at the stop of the stairs where he presumed his mother to be, so he was a little surprised when his father called to him from across the foyer where he stood in Jared's bedroom doorway.

"What are you doing over there?"

His father met him halfway. "I forgot to tell you boys. I installed a door between Jared's old bedroom and the bathroom and moved your mother in there so she could have easier access."

"Oh, okay."

"Go on, Seel. She's waiting for you."

Booth watched his father move to the stairs and then continued on to the door that still had the 'keep out' sign on it Jared had put up when he was fourteen.

Booth pushed the door open slowly, remembering the way the hinges used to squeak like brakes on a MACK truck. It had been the reason Jared learned quickly how to climb trees since his party schedule simply didn't allow for a curfew.

But the door was silent when he opened it, another one of his father's home improvement projects no-doubt. Booth found it a bit jarring to see his mother in the small twin sized bed with a white rose comforter and knitting needles, while surrounded by dark blue walls, posters of KISS and The Rolling Stones and dozens of basketball trophies.

She looked up from her knitting and immediately smiled, though it didn't put him as much at ease as he'd expected it to. She was noticeably thinner and paler than she had been the last time he saw her, with dark shadows below her eyes and a wig. At her feet a large Golden Retriever lifted its head and lazily began wagging its tale.

"Hey Lucy," he smiled, and crossed the red rug quickly, bending to kiss her cheek.

"Lucy?" she puzzled at him, he motioned to her head and sat in a plush chair he recognized from his parents' bedroom that was now stationed dutifully beside the bed.

"Oh," she laughed, and touched the wig self-consciously, "I just felt like a red-head today."

He was distracted momentarily when the dog stepped off the bed and planted itself between his knees, waiting to be petted.

"Hey Rascal, you keeping an eye on mom?" Booth asked, smiling and scratching the dog's head roughly.

"Yes, he hardly leaves my side," his mother answered. Booth nodded, leaning back in his chair and Rascal rested his head in his lap.

"I like the hair. Is it comfortable?"

"Somewhat. I have three. A blonde one, this one and a black one for church."

Booth nodded. Black was her natural hair color and less likely to invite questions.

"Church huh? You sure that's a good idea?"

"You sound like your father," she scoffed, sticking her needles into a yarn ball, "I know, I know, my white cells have been low and I'm prone to infection, yadda yadda."

"Mom, c'mon…"

"Oh don't worry, it's been a while since I've left the house. Your father likes to err on the side of caution." She started to reach for the floor to put away her knitting but Booth took it.

"Good," he said approvingly, putting the yarn in the basket at his feet. In the process he disturbed Rascal's light nap and he returned to his spot at the foot of the bed, curling up happily.

"I suppose so, although it doesn't always feel that way. I haven't tended to my garden in months! I'm sure those damn rabbits have made quick work of it by now."

Booth watched as she turned and looked silently out the window, well aware that she seemed much more upset about neglecting her garden than she was about losing her hair.

"Well," she faced him again, all traces of gloom forgotten, "Enough about this, tell me about my grandson."

Booth's face immediately lit up and he reached for Jared's old rubicks cube on the bedside table, rotating it absently.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Alright, then tell me everything," she smiled.

* * *

**Booth Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****September 18th**

When James descended the stairs, his youngest son was nowhere to be found. He checked the dining room, living room and kitchen, all without luck. Finally, he found him, outside in the driveway. He had already commandeered James' tools and was tinkering with his bike.

"I thought I might find you out here. You and Shelby."

Jared looked up from where he sat on the ground and grinned a sideways smile. "Yup, the only girl I'll ever give my heart to."

"I guess that means no more grandchildren," James grumbled.

Jared laughed and stood, wiping his hands on a rag and stuffing it into his back pocket. He'd shed the scarf and leather jacket and wore just a T-shirt. His father dug his hands into his pockets, feeling cold just looking at him.

"Don't you know it's nearly October, boy?"

Jared rolled his eyes. "I'm fine dad."

James shook his head but didn't comment, though the old saying 'where there's no sense there's no feeling' did come to mind. He then took a moment to observe his youngest son for a moment and was amazed, not for the first time, at how alike the boys were. Similar build, same facial expressions and sense of humor, they'd sometimes been mistaken for twins.

Booth had always been the more responsible, level headed of the two, which admittedly wasn't saying much. But he had been a relatively easy boy to raise, eager to please and protect, much like his mother. Jared on the other hand, had been the exact opposite. James used to say Jared was born and hit the ground running. 'Where' didn't matter, out the front door, into a wall or straight toward trouble, he didn't care. The boy just hated to be in one place. Seeley had also suffered from this tendency toward constant motion growing up, but had found ways to channel it into productiveness most of the time. Jared didn't have that same quality. While Seeley would rebuild motor engines, Jared would set off firecrackers in the neighbor's henhouse.

Even with these differences though, the boys had been best friends their whole lives, which had been exactly what James and their mother wanted for them. But Seeley and his brother had a falling out nearly a ten years ago and had never been the same. James knew it had something to do with their time in the service, but had never pressed for answers, and the boys had never volunteered.

He hadn't realized how long he'd been quiet until Jared suddenly spoke up.

"Dad, we uh, I mean…Mom is okay, right?" Jared stared at the ground, speaking with atypical uncertainty.

He knitted his brows together, the question troubled him, especially with its quiet, almost shy delivery. Ever since he'd left the air force, James had had trouble distinguishing between when to be Captain Booth, and when to be Father Booth. Jared's question had him thinking he had perhaps been mistaken in the way he spoke to his sons earlier, being too much of a Captain, and not enough of a father. "Well, Jared, things could be better, she has cancer you know." He tried to joke, wishing to lighten the mood.

But Jared didn't laugh, didn't even crack a smile. In fact, he looked so much like his six-year-old self the day their first dog - Hugo - died, James felt an immediate need to apologize. "Look, Jared, you know your mother. She's strong. She'll be fine."

Jared stared hard at his hands for several moments. He was wiping at a screwdriver with his rag with such repetitiveness James was concerned he'd rub the chrome clean off it.

"Yeah. Sure. You're right." Jared nodded, all vulnerability gone from his face. James smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

"Of course I am."

Jared rolled his eyes and turned back to the bike, kneeling to pick up the tools he'd used.

"Listen, I meant to tell you earlier, we moved your mother into your old room."

"What?" He paused midway at putting away a socket wrench. "Why?"

"Well, she doesn't have so much energy these days and the treatments upset her stomach so I installed a door between your room and the bathroom and moved her in there, it's easier. You can have our room while you're here."

Jared was quiet, frowning as he finished putting away the tools before he stood straight. He wiped his hands on his jeans, apparently forgetting the rag in his pocket.

"No, I'll take the spare bedroom downstairs."

"Jared, that's not a bedroom, it's a cot and a washing machine."

"No, seriously it's fine. You can stay in your own room. I know how much you love that balcony and stuff."

"Jared…"

"Dad, I'm not going to sleep in there," he snapped suddenly. His father looked taken aback and then frowned so Jared took a deep breath. "Sorry, just…take the bedroom, okay? Somebody should," he finished shortly, feeling only a little bit guilty for snapping at his father, who was really only trying to be nice. "I mean, please, dad. Just sleep in your bedroom," he said more calmly. "I'll probably fall asleep watching Sports Center anyway."

He decided that it would be unnecessary to tell his father he'd probably be making "friends" at the bar later that night and he would be hopefully going home with a chick in a mini-skirt anyway.

Satisfied, James nodded and started to say something else when Jared's phone began playing the theme song from 'easy rider'.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, wandering away a few feet before answering. His father nodded and went inside, the screen door shut just as the words 'hey baby' floated up to him on an early autumn breeze. James shook his head. Jared only called them 'baby' when he couldn't remember their real names.

* * *

**FROM: **sbooth_**at**_fbi-homicide. gov  
**TO: **tbrennan_**at**_thejeffersonian-dc. org  
**SUBJECT:** Thompson Background

Hey Bones,

I forgot to send you this file before I left. I know you have a photocopy, but you can print this one out and have an original to use at the trial. It's attached.

The FBI is going to lock my email account in 48 hours…don't make that face, it's policy for when an agent goes on extended leave. So if you need to shoot me a message you're going to have to use my Gmail account, okay?

By the way, why is it that you act like you can't hear a word I say when I tell you to 'stay back' when I'm trying to apprehend a suspect, but if I happen to drop a comment about 'brothers' you remember it word for word?

**Seeley Booth  
**_Special Agent  
_**Federal Bureau of Investigation  
**Department of Homicide  
935 Pennsylvania Ave.  
Washington, DC 20535  
_"Fidelity, Integrity, Bravery"_

* * *

_TBC_


	4. The Team Minus One

**Today has sucked, I just thought you all should know. So far I nearly ran out of gas on the way to work, the internet was inexplicably broken at my house so I had to wait to post until I got to work and then ff. net stupideness wouldn't do what I wanted it to and it was being effed up and my stupid alarm woke me up this morning...which granted, it's supposed to do, but that doesn't make it any less annoying!! Jeez...I need a drink. **

**Thanks to Willie and Niah for their help with this chap!

* * *

****FROM:** tbrennan_**at**_thejeffersonian-dc. org  
**TO:** stripedsocks1989_**at**_gmail. com  
**SUBJECT:** RE: Thompson Background

Thank you, I will let you know how the trial goes, but there shouldn't be any problems. It is a watertight case.

I do not listen to you when you tell me to stay back because I do not need you to protect me. However, you do know more about practical applications of familial dynamics than I do, so I defer to you in those instances. I do find it interesting, however, that you've always encouraged me to mend bridges with my father and brother, and yet you obviously have a strained relationship with your own brother…

I meant what I said Booth. Brothers are special, if there is a way for you to improve your relationship with yours; I highly recommend you do so. I can tell you from experience that it can be very...rewarding.

**Temperance Brennan, PhD  
**_Head Forensic Anthropologist  
_Medico-Legal Lab  
**National**** Museum**** of Natural History  
****Jeffersonian Institution  
**1000 Constitution Ave NW  
Washington, DC 20560

* * *

**Wong Foo's  
****Washington**** D.C.  
****September 20th**

"Was Booth this irritating when we started working together?"

Angela shrugged and absently peeled the label on her beer. "I think I always liked Booth."

Brennan sighed and sat back in the seat.

"At least he seems to have an elementary understanding of forensics." Zach chimed in.

"So does a rookie grad student, that doesn't mean he should be in charge of a murder investigation." Hodgins frowned at his plate of fried rice, rolling a chick pea around with his fork.

"He's not _that_ bad."

All three of the others turned and looked at Angela as if she'd just started a mutiny.

"What? He's not. He's intelligent, compassionate, work oriented."

"He's also irritating, sarcastic and emotional," Brennan retorted, emphasizing her point with a purposeful jab at the air with her chopsticks.

Angela raised her eyebrow and sat forward. "Sound like anyone you know?"

Brennan sat back in a huff, glaring at the tabletop, Zach and Hodgins doing the same.

"I'm serious you guys. Agent Donner is a good FBI agent. You guys just don't like him because he's not Booth." The determination in her face melted away and she too, sat back and stared at the table. "And that's where I agree with you."

* * *

**The Jeffersonian Institute  
****Washington**** D.C.  
****September 20th**

_**Earlier that Day**_

"The bones are here Dr. Brennan."

Brennan continued typing as if the words had not been spoken.

"Dr. Brennan," Agent Donner appeared in her doorway, calling her name impatiently. "Dr. Brennan did you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you Agent Donner," she said, with all the patience and enthusiasm she could muster, never looking up from her screen. "But as discussed earlier, I have appointed Zach as your liaison to the Jeffersonian for the remainder of Booth's absence."

Donner's mouth dropped. "You've got to be kidding!"

Brennan stopped typing and looked at him briefly. "I do not 'kid'."

"But he doesn't know the first thing about investigating a murder."

She shrugged and went back to her computer. "Then this should be good practice for him."

There was a moment of silence and then she heard her office door close. She watched carefully out of the corner of her eye as he approached her desk.

"Dr. Brennan I…apologize."

Her eyes immediately snapped up to his, an apology was the last thing she was expecting.

"I, um, got into a fight with my wife this morning and I let my bad mood affect my work. If I offended you, it was unintentional," he stopped and waited, placing their fate as workmates firmly in her hands.

She narrowed her eyes. Torn between the words 'apology accepted' and 'stop patronizing me' and unsure of which direction to go. So, instead of responding, she merely pursed her lips, stood and led the way out onto the platform.

"Zach, have you completed your preliminary examination?" she asked, standing a respectful distance from the bones while looking over the x-rays he handed her.

"Dr. Brennan I really don't think…" Agent Donner began, waiting at the bottom of the stairs to avoid setting off the alarm.

"He has his doctorate," she cut off his protest before it could begin, "Zach?"

"Amazingly none of the bones were damaged during transport and I was able to-" Zach's gaze scanned the bones critically, his arms folded thoughtfully.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Donner asked defensively, bounding up the stairs as one of the security guards swiped him in.

"It means your forensics techs were less than stellar in their execution of cadaver extraction and pre-exam care," Zach explained calmly as Brennan joined him at the tableto look over the bones.

"Excuse me, Dr. Addy, but the FBI forensics team knows how to properly care for human remains during transport."

"Excuse me, Agent Donner, but they're incompetent and overly casual."

The agent huffed, and folded his arms, again reminded that arguing with squints was not only pointless, but more or less impossible since they were unlikely to ever change their position.

"Zach? What did you find?" Brennan asked again.

"I concur with your analysis from the crime scene. I was also able to identify the marks left in some of the flesh on the back. It looks to be a brand, like the kind used on livestock. Hodgins and I traced it to a Dude Ranch in Virginia."

"Very good, that gives us someplace to start looking for suspects." Brennan took off her gloves and went back to her office to collect her things. She assumed that, true to her routine with Booth, they would run down to HQ before the Convicted Felon Database Technician left for the night so they could start cross-referencing names. But when she made it back out onto the platform, her liaison was gone.

"Where is Agent Donner? Is he already waiting in the car?"

"No. He said something about being late to his daughters' soccer game and left quickly," Zach answered absently. He pulled over a magnifying glass and squinted at an anomaly he'd found in the femur bone.

Seeing Brennan's frown, Angela stepped forward. "We were all going to Wong Foo's in a few minutes, you're welcome to join us Bren."

* * *

**Wong Foo's  
****Washington**** D.C.  
****September 20th**

Zach and Hodgins excused themselves from the table, Hodgins to the bathroom, Zach to the kitchen to find out what exactly it was that Sid had brought him to eat, despite the group's protests that he would like it.

The girls shifted in their seats, and Angela leaned over the table.

"So what's up with Booth anyway?"

"He's fine - I think. At least I…I don't what he is. He didn't really talk about himself in our phone call. Gave some indications about his parents and brother, but not himself," she paused, "If I were to judge from my own experience with him, and what I know about his personality, I'd say he's probably working himself very hard, trying to make things easier on his parents. He's probably tired…uneasy at being so far from DC. Maybe misses his job, and definitely Parker," she trailed off, thoughtfully staring out the window to her right.

"Wow."

Her gaze moved back to Angela. "What?"

"I just…" she shook her head, "I never realized how much you, well, care for him."

"I worry about his mental and physical well-being as our working relationship depends on..."

"Yeah, Brennan, don't start with me. You know what I mean."

Brennan looked mildly offended, but relaxed after a moment and sat back in her chair. "Well we did have…an encounter. Before he left."

Angela raised her eyebrows to show she was listening.

"He - well we - kissed. Outside my apartment building. No mistletoe."

Angela nodded. "I thought as much."

"Excuse me?" She looked up, surprised.

"Well, things have been off with you ever since Booth left. I thought it might be just because of having a new liaison, but _this_ did also cross my mind."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Angela shrugged. "If there's one thing I know about you, sweetie, it's that no one gets information out of you until you're good and ready to give it. So I waited."

Brennan's frown turned slowly into a smile and she was again reminded of why she and Angela were such good friends.

"So what happened?"

"Well, nothing really." She shrugged, stirring her drink. "We kissed, he left and I went up to my apartment. Then he had to go and we never really…discussed anything."

"Okay, so did you like it? Do you want to do it again?" Angela asked slowly.

Brennan looked troubled. "I'm not sure if it's relevant."

"Relevant?"

"Yes. I know I say this all the time, but it's true Ange. We're partners. We have a very delicate, very crucial balance in our working relationship and changing now might be detrimental to both of us."

"Well, have you ever thought that perhaps the reason you work so well together professionally is because you would work well together personally?"

"Of course the thought has crossed my mind, but that logic is severely flawed. We have different life paths; we want different things for our futures. He wants kids and a family and marriage. He's traditional. I want to be successful in my career, I don't want kids. I want to identify people who have no one else. We're like opposite poles on a magnet, our definitions of happiness are just too…different." She shrugged and shook her head. It was really the only logical reasoning.

"Alright, everything you just said is true," Angela paused intentionally and watched as Brennan's shoulders fell a little at that, "but, it doesn't matter. Not really. I don't think you give Booth enough credit. He is already a father and I would venture to guess that the fallout he had with Rebecca makes him very cautious about the prospect of having more. I mean, he's only human. He's not immune to the pain one feels after a breakup. And he's had a few, just in the time we've known him. If I were to bet, I'd say he's just as careful and guarded with his heart as you are. And in the end, everyone's definition of happy is the same," she waited until Brennan looked up at her, "someone to share life with."

Brennan couldn't help but smile a little and then went back to pushing her chow mien around on her plate.

"And something else."

Brennan tried not to roll her eyes and looked up just as the boys started to return to the table. "What's that?"

"I know you love your job, and with good reason, but…your job will never love you back, sweetie. Someday you're going to wake up and it won't be there anymore. Then what?" She gave Brennan an encouraging smile as Hodgins slid in beside her, slinging his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "Think about it."

"Think about what? Chocolate cake? Because that's definitely what I'm thinking about," Hodgins said with a smile. "You guys with me?" Zach and then Angela agreed.

"What about you, boss? Some cake sound good?"

Brennan sighed and shook her head. "No thanks." She turned to look out the window brows knitted together thoughtfully.

* * *

**Booth Residence  
****Pittsburgh****, PA  
****September 23rd **

At first he couldn't rationalize it, all he could feel was annoyance. Then, it faded to confusion as he tried to figure out why Bones didn't seem to notice the obscene ringing sound that was drowning out her voice. He thought he vaguely recognized the sound, and the confusion returned to annoyance again as he was pulled from his dream state and realized the sound was his cell phone.

A long hand shot out from under the blue comforter and sluggishly drug the singing object off his nightstand and into the bed.

"Hello?" he ground out, his voice laden with sleep.

"Hey Seel." came the chipper response.

Booth's frown deepened and he sat up on his elbow, trying to clear his foggy mind. "Jared?" he glanced at his alarm clock, "It's 2:47 in the morning."

"Uh, yeah. I know. Listen, you wanna come help me out?" he said hopefully.

Booth groaned, scrubbing his palm across his face and flopped onto his back. "At 3am, Jared, unless you're in a ditch bleeding to death, the only place I'm going to help you is out of an airplane at 30,000 feet."

There was a slight pause and raised voices in the background from Jared's end and Booth almost drifted back to sleep. "Listen, not that I'm not impressed by your ability to be witty and sarcastic at this ungodly hour, but cut the crap, okay Seel? Just come bail me out and drive me home."

Booth's eyelids parted and he stared at his ceiling fan. "Bail you out? Jared, I swear to God if you're telling me you're in jail I'm going to…"

"Yeah yeah, save it. It's only for the night and normally I'd just sit it out, okay? But…I promised Dad I would go with him to the bank tomorrow morning to see about that loan so can you please just do this for me?"

Booth sighed heavily, and would have rolled his eyes if they weren't already closed again. "Fine. I'll be there in twenty." He hung up.

Doing his best to move quietly, Booth pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, grabbed his keys and wallet, and headed out.

After he was in the car felt a bit more awake, he took to grumbling to himself. He wasn't sure if he was angry at Jared for being an ass, or himself for not seeing this coming. Because he certainly should have seen it coming.

* * *

**FROM:** stripedsocks1989**_at_**gmail. com  
**TO:** tbrennan_**at**_thejeffersonian-dc. org  
**SUBJECT:** Do you have to talk that way?

Why do you always write your emails like you're giving a lecture on bones to a class at Harvard? It's just me, Bones. You're allowed to use contractions and even an acronym or two, okay? I won't tell.

I promise you I am trying my best to make things work between my brother and I, for my mom's sake if nothing else. But the guy drives me up the wall…It hasn't always been this way, we used to be close. We served in the Rangers together, did I ever tell you that? When we were discharged Jared just…it was like all the differences we had were amplified and our similarities disappeared. We've been at each other's throats ever since. But I _am_ trying.

So how are things at the lab? You like the new liaison? Be nice Bones…but not too nice. I'll be coming back soon you know.

Booth

P.S. I have a favor to ask. Would you be willing to videotape Parker's play for me? Remember the one I told you about, the fruit play?

P.S.S. I think the word you were looking for was 'airtight' not 'watertight'. Good try though. ;-P

_TBC_


	5. Reaching out, Pushing Away

**A/N: I'm so blown away by the response to this fic, and I love that you guys love the emails, to be honset, they are some of the hardest parts. Also, this chapter I stupidly forgot to send to my beta in time for it to be betaed by the deadline, so it's all me on this one, and I take full credit for any typos or inconsitencies. **

**I forgot to mention in the last post, these email addresses are _highly_ classified information, so you must refrain from using them for your own personal use and curiosity, for fear I have two very angry, rather violent DC investigators after me. Thankyousomuch. **

**--**

**FROM: **tbrennan**_at_**thejeffersonian-dc. org  
**TO: **stripedsocks1989**_at_**gmail. com  
**SUBJECT: **Favor

I write that way in my emails because I'm at work and it's habit (look! Two contractions!) And is it really appropriate that you ask me for a favor and then correct my use of euphemism? Seems a bit shortsighted on your part.

Booth, why did you never tell me FBI agents don't get overtime? With all the days we stay up late working on cases and then get started early in the morning. I had no idea so much of that was on your own time, I just hope you know that means a lot. Zach and Hodgins have been keeping themselves busy, having taken an immediate dislike to the new liaison when he made fun of their bugs. I pointed out to them that you do that all the time, but they said it was 'different', whatever that means. And Angela says 'hi'.

I spoke to Parker on the phone to tell him I would be coming to film the play on your behalf. He's not exactly skilled at phone conversation is he? He did seem to remember me though, and while he was disappointed you couldn't be there, I believe he's taking it in stride. I know you talked to him and explained the whole thing, so it should go over smoothly.

How are things with you and Jared? Your mother?

Temperance

--

**Booth Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****September 18****th  
****3:45pm**

Jared knocked tentatively on his old bedroom door and waited to get permission to enter.

"Come on in, Jared."

"How'd you know it was me?" He asked, slowly entering.

"Well, Seeley was just here and your father never knocks." She smiled gently, as if sensing his discomfort in the way he hesitated at the doorway, even after she asked him in, and then let his eyes wander the room and never rest too long on her face. But, just like Booth, the smile didn't really put Jared at ease and he walked past the foot of the bed, petting Rascal absently, ambling over to his basketball trophies on his dresser.

"Your father wanted to move them to the attic, but I wouldn't let him." She said as he reached out and traced the letters MVP across one of them. He nodded but didn't speak. He stuffed his hand back into his pocket, his back so rigid his shoulders were up by his ears.

"You should have. They don't do anybody any good down here." He said, bitterness punctuating his statement like an inkblot on pure white paper.

"They do me good." She said defensively, causing him to glance at her, "I like to look at them, they remind me of you." She shook her head, smiling nostalgically as she stared past him at a few old photos on the wall, "I loved to watch you play, you loved it so much. And you were so good, Jared I honestly thought-"

"Yeah, Mom I know. That's why they give you the trophies, to remind you of what you _were_." He bit his lip and looked at the floor to avoid her surprised face and moved quickly away from the awards. Somehow a small part of him believed physical distance would make the sting of his missed opportunities less painful.

"Jared, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"So how are the treatments?" He said, now on the opposite side of the room studying the new door to the bathroom, still avoiding his mother's gaze.

Susan raised her left eyebrow in a high arc and calmly folded her hands in her lap, a sure sign that she was irritated and had had just about enough of his interrupting her.

"I've finished the Chemotherapy, I can't wait for things to taste normal again. Your father is a terrible cook anyway, everything tasting like metal hasn't helped any." She got a measure of satisfaction when the corner of Jared's mouth turned up, but he still wouldn't look at her. "Now I have radiation treatments 25 minutes a day, Monday thru Friday, for six weeks."

Jared nodded, moving along the wall to the poster he'd gotten at his first concert when he was sixteen, The Rolling Stones. "Any side effects for that?"

"I might be inclined to tell you if you'd look at me for a minute or two."

He froze and then turned slowly, his posture turning even more rigid as he did so. She sighed and her shoulders slumped.

"What's the matter Jared? Are you afraid I'm going to break?"

True to his obstinate nature, Jared didn't blink. Instead he tipped his head to the side and shrugged, scratching his earring on his right shoulder.

"No mom. I ain't afraid."

This time her arched eyebrow was a sign of disbelief. "Your certainly acting like it. You haven't even given me a hug. I haven't seen you since last Christmas."

He looked guilty and crossed the rug, leaning down to give her a quick hug and peck on the cheek.

She smiled softly and squeezed him for as long as he would allow.

"I love you Jared."

He stood up and took a deep breath, stiffening only slightly when she squeezed his hand. She received the full brunt of his stare then, intense and blue as it had ever been. He mapped the most familiar face in his life, logging each and every one of the laugh lines and worry wrinkles, wondering how many he was responsible for.

"Me too," was all he could push out. Ashamed that he couldn't say the three most important words he knew even to his own mother, he dropped her hand and pushed it immediately back into his jeans. Backing from the room he said, "I gotta go, Mom. I'll see you later."

She frowned at the door, confused by his abrupt exit. She muttered, "I'll see you," to the empty room.

--

**Booth Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****September 19****th  
****1:03am**

Booth sighed deeply and glanced at the clock. 1:03am. Irritated, he threw aside _Catcher and the Rye_, a book he'd pulled off the bottom of his bookshelf around 11:54pm when counting sheep had failed him miserably.

He rolled out of the bed and pulled on a pair of black pajama pants, giving up on sleep for the time being. He crept through the foyer, avoiding the spots where he knew the floor creaked, and tip-toed down the stairs. Curiously, he was not the only one awake at this hour.

"Hey pops," he said quietly, clapping the man on the shoulder as he walked by toward the kitchen, "didn't expect to find you down here."

His father jumped at the sound of Booth's voice and his reading glasses fell off his nose.

"Seeley? Why are you awake?" He asked, rubbing his eyes and stretching, revealing a white t-shirt and flannel boxers under his dark green robe.

"Insomnia," Booth called while he filled a glass with water before returning to the dining room and sitting beside him, "you?"

James motioned toward the thick book in front of him, "You're mother was prescribed a new medication yesterday, I wanted to do a little research on it."

Booth let out a low whistle, "Man, this books gotta be, what, 800 pages? Maybe I should help, it would cure my insomnia in 2 minutes flat." They laughed but James couldn't disagree.

"I'll admit, I dozed off a few times. Trying to locate all the cross-references is _so_ time consuming.

Booth frowned and sipped his water, "Where's the computer you got last Christmas? I guarantee you the information is easier to find online than in all these books." Booth looked a the table, covered from end to end with books and medical journals, "And you'll be able to actually use your dining room for _dining_ again."

James sat back but shook his head. "No, Seel I don't have the time or the energy to try and learn how to use that thing. Nope, I'll just stick to good old fashioned ink and paper if you don't mind."

Booth rolled his eyes. "Ludite."

"What?"

"Nothing. Listen, dad, I'll help you set up the computer and show you how to use it, okay? You'll thank me, I promise." He reached over and squeezed his father's shoulder, tipping his chin up with his best 'please please' smile.

Finally, the older man conceded. "Fine. It's in the attic. Knock yourself out."

This time Booth couldn't keep his comments to himself. "Unbelievable. A brand new 1500 computer and you put it in the attic."

Just as James was about to retort, the door to their left, the laundry room that occasionally doubled as a bedroom, swung open and Jared walked out, stopping dead at the sight of them.

"Oh…hey guys." He said haltingly, quickly he finished adjusting his leather jacket over his blue shirt and jeans and did his best to look nonchalant.

"Hey, where, uh, where you headed?" James was first to respond and Booth only frowned, he didn't need to have two PhD's to know Jared was on his way out to get plastered and laid, knowing full well his mother and father hated when he did that.

"Um…we're out of milk."

"So?"

"We, well, we need it."

"At 1am we need it?"

"I…need warm milk. I can't sleep."

Booth smiled, amused. Jared must have been pretty flustered to see them, he usually was a much better liar than this.

"Yeah, that seems to be a common problem around here. And yet you're the only one heading out to get milk."

Jared shrugged and grabbed his keys. "You can thank me later. Don't wait up." He added, waving as he approached the door.

"Why? You expect the supermarket to be crowded?" Booth called out.

Again Jared shrugged. "You never know, see ya." He shut the front door behind him and moments later the sound of a Harley being fired up vibrated through the house.

Booth and James exchanged a pensive look.

"C'mon dad," Booth said finally, "Lets go to bed." He stood and waited for his father to follow suit.

"Seeley?" James whispered once they were at the top of the stairs, "Will you…"

"Don't worry dad, I'll wait up for him."

His father smiled with gratitude and squeezed his shoulder. Then he turned and shuffled across the way to Jared's old room where his mother slept peacefully and blissfully unaware.

Seeley sighed and ran a hand through his hair, heading back downstairs to brew himself a cup of coffee and see what was on TNT.

--

**Pittsburgh Police Department  
****3****rd**** Precinct  
****September 23****rd  
****3:14am**

A policeman with a gray handlebar mustache and a scar on his left hand, that could have been caused by anything as dramatic as a drug dealer's concealed weapon, or as benign as a household home improvement project, led him to a cell block Booth recognized.

"What? Did you reserve a room the last time you were here?" Booth asked mockingly, being pulled out of bed so he could bail his bonehead baby brother out of jail did not bode well for his mood.

Jared lay on his back on a cot that folded out from a cinder block wall. His eyes were closed and his fingers were laced, resting on his stomach, but Booth would have bet money that he wasn't sleeping.

Proving this, Jared immediately sat straight up, and his hand flew to his head as he groaned.

"Headache?"

Jared nodded weakly.

"Good."

The younger man glared at him and reached for his jacket. "Thanks for your concern." He grumbled, looking and sounding a lot less chipper than he had on the phone, apparently no longer buzzed and leaning more toward the hung over side of the heavy drinking fence.

Booth nodded at the guard as Jared approached the bars and he unlocked them, allowing him to join his brother and the guard on the other side.

"Well excuse me if I'm not exactly amiable in nature. It is after 3 in the morning you know."

Jared grumbled a response and followed them down the hall and out of the cellblock.

"Oh look, the little po-po couldn't handle lock up for one night." "What, were you scared without your badge to protect you?" a few inmates taunted as they passed. Booth glanced up as they walked by, intrigued by his brother's lack of response. Most were petty thieves and probably a few small time drug dealers. The type most people would avoid in broad daylight, and the kind Jared thrilled on arresting, usually in the roughest, unpleasant way possible. Suddenly it hit him.

"So that's why you wanted me to come bail you out?" Booth asked once they were outside. Jared didn't immediately respond so Booth pressed, "It didn't have anything to do with dad did it? You and your big mouth let it slip that you're a cop and you were afraid they'd kill you before tomorrow."

Jared still ignored him and Booth, being a bit irritable at that time of the morning, reached out and grabbed his shoulder to turn him around, which Jared pushed away violently.

"Hey, you don't get to judge me, alright? I'm not the one who gambled away all the money I was supposed to use to pay off college loans!" It was a low blow and Jared knew it, but he didn't even have time to consider apologizing.

"No, you're the one letting a nightmare from ten years ago ruin your life now!"

The two stood toe to toe for a moment, eyes locked in a silent battle for dominance. The more sober, well rested of the two won out this time and Jared looked away, brusquely making his way to the car and climbing in, slamming the door behind him. After a moment Booth joined him, and they made the ride back home in silence.

--

**Brennan's Apartment  
****Washington D.C.  
****September 20****th  
****11:54pm**

She sat eating macaroni and cheese, made just the way he liked it, wearing striped socks that she'd never admit to having bought, listening to Foreigner. They were probably the three most masochistic things she could have done that evening. Her intent had been to remind herself of Booth and therefore, maybe not feel so disturbingly lonely without him, but the result had been that she felt his absence more acutely than before.

The curser in her email blinked at her mockingly. _What will you write this time, hmm? Will you write as Dr. Brennan, or Temperance? Will you be his partner, his friend or his Bones? _

Finally, she began:

**I made macaroni and cheese tonight. And I'm listening to Hot Blooded, these things remind me of you. I think that's why I'm doing them. **

She shook her head and hit delete.

**I miss you Boo**

She contorted her face into a painful expression and hit the delete key with more exuberance than before.

She spooned another mouthful of her delectable cheesy noddles and tried again.

**Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about as far as your job being here when you get back, that's for sure.**

She stopped and tilted her head to the side, reading the sentence over a few times, trying to imagine what Booth would think when he saw it. With a satisfied nod, she sat up straighter and continued.

_Dr. Brennan it is._

_--_

**FROM: **stripedsocks1989**_at_**gmail. com  
**TO: **tbrennan**_at_**thejeffersonian-dc. org  
**SUBJECT:** The Family Life

It's weird being back home after all this time. Usually I'm only here for a few days at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and there's all kinds of family here to keep me busy. Now it's just Mom, Dad, Jared and me. And Rascal of course, he's our Golden Retriever. Great old dog, Parker loves him. I can't wait to see his play, it's harder than I though it would be – not being able to see him every weekend. Talking over the phone just isn't the same. Kids grow up so fast at his age, one minute I'm 'daddy' and he want's me to color with him, the next it's just 'dad' and he wants to play video games all day. By the time I get back he'll probably be dating! Of course, I'm sure he won't have any trouble with that – the Charm Smile is genetic you know.

Jared and I had a disagreement earlier this week. Stemming mostly from his inability to stay out of trouble for even one moment. He drives me crazy, you know? Amd it seems like we're always stepping on eachother's toes, the house feels…smaller than it used to (and yes, I know that's physically impossible). When we were kids, Jared and I fought all the time, most of the time we'd just slug it out and be done with it in an hour or so. Now it just feels like the walls are closing in. Without Mom or Dad to run interference, we just don't talk, pretend it didn't happen. I think that's worse than anything...I've been spending too much time with Sweets.

In any case, I'm still trying Bones, I just don't know how much good it's doing.

Tell the squints I say 'hi'. I'll be back as soon as I can.

S.B.

* * *

_TBC_


	6. Chasing the Years of My Life

**As always, many many thanks to all the readers and reviewers. You guys are really good at pointing out what especially you liked in a chapter, and that always gives me an extra boost. I'd say more, but I gotta get my butt in gear and go finish chapter seven!! Huge thanks to my beta, Willgurl for her lovely comments and advice.**

**A/N: Pay _close_ attention to time stamps in this one, or halfway through you'll be all the way confused.**

**Enjoy!

* * *

**

**FROM:**boneswith2phds_**at**_hotmail. com  
**TO: **stripedsocks1989_**at**_gmail. com  
**SUBJECT:** The Lab

Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about as far as your job being here when you get back, that's for sure. Things have begun to head south with the new liaison. Angela's explanation for why we aren't exactly "hitting it off" is the sole reason that he's not you. Which seems a little extreme. I understand that there's many things about our partnership to emulate, and perhaps even envy. The free flow of communication and trust for example. But to say that one person should measure up or short of a certain job based solely on the standards set by his predecessors' is simply irrational. There are many things in our partnership that could be improved upon and therefore there's room for someone else to fit in.

For example, I hate the way you hover when I'm examining remains, both in the lab and in the field. I hate the way you call dozens of times a day to find out if we have any updates, as if I wouldn't call you as soon as I got something. I hate the way you drag me out of my office at all hours of the day to make me go eat, I'm a grown woman you know, capable of nourishing myself. And when you do manage to abduct me, I really hate that you hog all the fried rice.

Well, now that your ego is sufficiently deflated, I thought I should let you know that I've realized something. These are the also the things I miss the most. I know, I know, it's not logical at all, but if I've learned anything from you, it's that sometimes facts defy logic. The truth is that without you here to do the things that annoy me, it feels like a part of my day is missing. And if Agent Donner were to do any of those things that I just mentioned, I'd hate him for it. So this is what I wrote to tell you: take as long as you need with your family, but know that your absence is keenly felt back here in D.C.

By the way, I was sorry to hear about your 'disagreement' with your brother, I hope you were able to work it out.

Temperance

--

**Booth Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****September 24****th  
****7:03am**

"Hey beautiful," Booth quietly exited the front door and joined his mother on the front porch, sipping a hot cup of coffee. It was his third in a row, he hadn't been able to get back to sleep after he and his brother's late night rendezvous and subsequent put-salt-in-a-wound argument, "You're up early."

She looked up at him and smiled, her head wrapped in an aquamarine scarf as she rocked slowly in her chair, an afghan throw shielding her from the cool morning air. "I love watching the sunrise from this porch." Booth nodded, leaning against the wooden railing a few feet away. "Did I ever tell you that was one of the reasons we bought this house?"

Booth shook his head, smiling and waited for her to continue, as he knew she would. He stuck his hands in his pockets and warmed his insides with the brew as he listened to her speak.

"We weren't quite sure we wanted this one or another we were looking at across town. I loved this porch though, it was the house's best feature as far as I was concerned. I was pregnant with Jared at the time and he was kicking and woke me up."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." Booth couldn't help but add.

"No, me either," she smiled, "anyway, I didn't want to wake your father so he could drive me around and put him back to sleep. Besides we would have had to bundle you up and put you in the car, you were only, what? Three at the time? Almost four. And it was almost six in the morning, so I called a cab and had them drive me around for a while, and we ended up here at just about sunrise. It was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen. I got out of the cab, walked right up onto this porch and sat in this swing."

"The people who owned it weren't home?"

"No, they were. And they were a little confused to find a strange, very pregnant woman on their front porch when they went to get the paper that morning but…" They started to laugh slightly, the image of Booth's mother as a young woman sneaking onto strangers porches at the crack of dawn certainly was a comical one. But the moment soon turned more serious as drawing the cool air into her lungs took it's toll and she began to cough uncontrollably.

Booth felt his heart constrict and immediately set aside his coffee, reaching for his mother.

"Lets get you inside, hm?"

She started to protest, but Booth ignored her and moved her indoors, their coffee and trip down memory lane, forgotten just at easily as her choked out complaints.

--

**Booth Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****June 8****th****, 1992  
****9:48pm**

"Hey, what are you doing out here?"

Jared looked up and saw Seeley shutting the back door and approaching him.

He grinned, "I saw Aunt Marsha heading for the photo album and figured I better get outta there while the getting's good."

Seeley nodded and dropped down next to his brother on the deck steps. "I had the same thought, but wasn't able to make an escape until halfway through 'Toronto Vacation, summer of 1985'."

"Ouch."

Seeley reached behind himself and produced two beer bottles. "Here, brought you something."

Jared raised his eyebrows but took the brown bottle, the warm evening air producing droplets of water on the glass. "Are you trying to corrupt me, big brother?"

Seeley rolled his eyes. "Oh, is that a beer, I meant to grab the bottle of milk next to it, gimme that back and I'll go get the right one."

Jared snatched his hand away as Seeley reached for it and quickly popped the cap, bringing the liquid to his lips. He gulped it quickly, "Ah, a good year."

"It's Bud not Merlot, dumbass." He took a long drag on his own beer and tipped his head back to look at the stars twinkling overhead. "Not trying to corrupt you. I just figured, you're old enough to fight for your country, you're old enough to have a beer with me before we leave."

Jared looked over and watched his brother's face, seeing that the shadows that had been growing deeper and darker under his eyes as their deploy date grew closer, had yet to lessen. "You nervous about tomorrow?"

Seeley didn't answer right away. "I don't know. You?"

Jared shook his head with a slight grin. "Hell no, I can't wait to get over there and kick some ass." He was busy enjoying this rare privilege of drinking beer without the threat of death and multiple year groundings, and didn't notice the physical change in his brother made by his words.

Seeley's stomach clenched at the care-free tone in Jared's voice. This would be his second tour, his younger brother's first. Patriotism ran in their blood, the army had always been right at the forefront of what to do with their futures. But he wasn't so delusional as to think following in his older brother's footsteps had nothing to do with sJared's decision to join the Army, and he'd be damned if he let him fly into it blind.

"Listen, I need to talk to you."

"I thought that was what we were doing." Jared popped off.

"Damnit, Jared, can't you be serious for two seconds?"

Startled by the sudden harshness in Seeley's voice, Jared dropped his beer and it splashed on the ground. "Shit. Look what you made me do."

"Jared." Seeley said again.

"What man?" Jared grumbled, clearly preoccupied.

Seeley reached over and grabbed his brother's arm tightly, forcing him to meet his eyes. Jared frowned, "_What_?"

"It's war over there."

"Well yeah, I know-"

"No you don't know, you couldn't. You're just a kid. But you're going to have to grow up, and fast because in 36 hours you're going to be in the middle of it. Real war. It's not like what you've seen in the movies, it's not BB guns in the back yard, Jared. It's life or death, mostly death." Seeing that he had Jared's attention, Seeley pulled his hand away, turning to look at the ground. "People die over there everyday. Some of them will be your friends, some of them you won't know at all but it hurts just the same. It's not about kicking ass and keeping score, it's about killing. You will have to kill people Jared, real people. Not paper targets. People."

Seeley paused and Jared's ears were piqued by the sudden silence in the air. It was as if all the insects and animals had stopped their chattering to listen to the darkness in Booth's voice.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked in more of a whisper than anything.

Seeley looked over. "Why? Does it scare you?"

Jared swallowed hard and nodded minutely. The wide-eyed look of fear he wore reminded Seeley of when they were on their first camping trip when he was ten, and Seeley had convinced him the ghost of a serial killer was outside roaming the campsite. It made him sick to see it now and angry at himself, knowing he was allowing his brother, green as could be at the tender age of nineteen, to know the ugliness of war.

"Good. I want you to be scared, because when you're scared, you're careful. If you go over there as your cocky, headstrong self, you'll be dead within a month. I don't want that."

Jared looked away and stared at the beer bottle at his feet, no longer seeing it. His brother called his name and he looked up once more, numbly.

"I'm going into this tour with a brother, I sure as hell better not come out of it as an only child, you get me?" Seeley reached up and squeezed the back of his brother's neck, "You understand Jared? We will, both of us, we will come out of this alive. Promise me."

Jared blinked a few times, his mind on overload with Seeley's words. He nodded, "I promise."

As quickly as it had appeared, the dark, cloudy look in Seeley's eyes vanished and a small smile kicked up the corner of his mouth. "C'mon kid, I can smell Mom's cherry pie in the oven."

Jared nodded again. Still a bit shell-shocked, he slowly started to reach for the bottle between his feet.

"Leave it, if Mom finds out I brought you that, neither of us are going to get a chance to survive this, she'll kill us both." He smiled fully, "And you've got to live long enough for me to introduce you to Cassandra."

"Cassandra?" Jared asked, regaining his full voice.

"Yeah, this hot babe I met in France. Long dark hair, French accent, legs for miles…Jared, my man, you're going to love her."

--

**Brennan's Residence  
****Washington D.C.  
****September 21st  
7:32pm**

Brennan stared at her kitchen sink in awe as she piled in yet another set of plates and forks. She honestly couldn't remember even one other time when it had been so full of dishes.

Deciding to have Amy, Hailey and Emma over for dinner was a spur of the moment decision she'd made earlier that week when Agent Donner had made another quick exit earlier than she was used to, this time so he would be able to go to his son's parent-teacher conference. At first she'd been irritated, but had come to realize that, of the two, family should be more important than work. Agent Donner understood that, obviously so did Booth. She never had before but now with Angela's words '_your job will never love you back_' ringing in her ears, she thought she ought to give it a try.

So she'd left work early and, realizing she had no idea what kids liked to eat, she went with what she'd been eating shamelessly for the past few days: macaroni and cheese. Judging by the condition of her kitchen sink, it had been a hit.

"Aunt Tempe?"

She felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down to see the girls staring up at her with big round, blue eyes, "yes?"

"Mom let us bring a movie, can we watch it, please?"

Brennan shrugged, "Sure. Here, I'll show you how the player works." She started to leave the kitchen after them, but they were already halfway to the living room, excitedly giggling at each other.

"That's okay, we can do it!"

"They're pretty independent," Amy said by way of explanation when she saw the slightly surprised look on Brennan's face as Hailey effortlessly navigated her dvd player and remote.

Brennan shrugged and smiled. "Nothing wrong with that."

"That macaroni and cheese really was amazing, Temperance. I'd love the recipe, Hailey is so hard to cook for sometimes, I was amazed at how much she ate." Amy gathered the rest of the dishes from the table and began helping Brennan as she loaded them into the dishwasher.

"It's very simple, I'm glad you liked it." Brennan smiled softly and added, "It's one of Booth's favorites."

"Oh, how is he doing anyway. I haven't seen him since he helped Russ out at the trial."

Without realizing it, Brennan's expression turned slightly thoughtful as she added soap to the dishwasher. "Well I haven't seen him recently. He was called back home to Pittsburgh on a family emergency. His mother is sick."

"Oh my god, that's terrible. Is she alright?"

"I think she's doing well, Booth would have let me know if it were otherwise."

Amy tilted her head, watching closely as Brennan finished with the dishwasher and turned it on, and then immediately went to her glass of wine. "And you? How are you since he's been gone?" she asked quietly.

Brennan seemed at bit taken aback by the question, but smiled tightly. "I'm fine, of course. Booth and I are partners, friends. I'm glad he's where he's most needed."

A flash of doubt crossed Amy's face but she nodded, settling herself on a nearby stool at the counter bar. "Forgive me if I'm overstepping a boundary here Temperance, but…well it's just that when Russ gets," she glanced over her shoulder at the girls, who were thoroughly enthralled with their movie, "when he gets back from overseas, we hope to get married. And that would make me more-or-less, your sister. So I want you to know that if there's ever anything you want to-"

"We've kissed a few times. Twice actually." Brennan blurted out. She was gripping her wineglass tightly, staring blankly at the wall, "The second time was right before he left and we never got a chance to…explore what it meant at all."

"I see." Amy nodded.

"And I suppose I…I miss him. But of course that's completely natural." She was rambling, she knew. But she couldn't seem to stop.

"Of course."

"After all, he's a rather prominent fixture in my life. We work closely together, it's only normal that I miss his presence where I'm used to having it. It doesn't have to be because I am…intrigued by the possibilities of a romantic relationship with him." She said with less certainty than she meant to.

"Are you trying to convince me, or you?"

Brennan paused and then smiled. "I'm not sure." She answered honestly, finishing off her wine in two big gulps.

Amy laughed and leaned against the counter, settling her head on her hand. "So have you spoken to him?"

Brennan shook her head, picking at a scratch on the countertop that had been there since she moved in, "Well, we email. I work a lot and I never know when he's got time so email just works better."

"Wow, that must be hard."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well," Amy sat up slightly and gave a half-hearted shrug, "when Russ was out of town for all that time, he couldn't call because I didn't have a phone. So he wrote me letters. I mean, they were nice but…sometimes words just aren't enough, you know? You just want to hear the voice of the one you love."

Brennan shifted uncomfortably, and looked away, 'love' was not a word she was ready to associate with Booth. Thankfully, a sleepy Hailey tugging on her mother's sleeve saved her from having to make a response.

"Feeling tired baby?" Hailey nodded and dropped her dark haired head against her mother's side, "I think we better go. Emma, honey, c'mon it's time to go."

Brennan helped Amy and the girls get ready to go, quickly becoming accustomed to the hugs and 'love you's that were tossed around so casually among them.

"Bye Hailey, Emma." Brennan stood at her front door and waved as the group descended the stairs. "Oh and Amy?"

She stopped and turned back, holding Hailey by the hand, "Yes?"

"I just wanted to…thank you."

"You're welcome," with a small shrug and a smile, "what are sisters for?" She waved one last time and chased after Emma who was several flights ahead of them. "Emma honey, wait for mommy."

Brennan smiled and shook her head, shutting the door when she heard the noise from the girls fade away.

--

**FROM: **stripedsocks1989_**at**_gmail. com  
**TO:** boneswith2phds_**at**_hotmail. com  
**SUBJECT:** Good Pie

I was watching this TV show last night. One of the characters is a forensic anthropologist. I don't think I ever told you how interesting your job is. It's pretty cool actually – in a scientific, nerdy sort of way. And for the record, I never told you FBI agents don't get overtime because it doesn't matter. Everybody puts in extra hours, it's the nature of the beast (metaphor, it means that's just how it is).All that matters is that we get the bad guy. End of story. A few early mornings and weekend hours never killed anybody.

You know how much I love pie? Well, I was downtown the other day, picking up groceries, and I walked past this bakery. I remember walking by it as a kid when it was a candy store. But anyway, as I'm walking by this smell hit me and instantly I was back home in 1983. It was wintertime and Jared broke his arm that year when he and I tried to sled off the roof of our neighbors barn (one of those wide flatish ones that comes close to the ground). He was really bummed for a while and the only thing that would cheer him up was cherry pie and a game of scrabble. We must have played hundreds of times. I always lost, I don't need to tell you how bad of a speller I am, I know you're aware of it because of how often you point it out. But that was probably one of the best winters of my childhood. My mom's cherry pie is the best, the Diner doesn't even come close, and I love their pie.

Who knows, maybe I should dust off some of those old scrabble tiles, see if I can spell my way into Jared's head and bring some sense along with me.

S.B.

* * *

_TBC_


	7. I'm trying, Bones

****

**A/N: A lot of people have asked about Booth's email address, where the '1989 comes from'. The answer is this, according to my calculations (granted, they're not that reliable) Booth graduated high school in 1989. Coincidentally, i was born that year, so I figured it was fate. :)**

**A/N2: Also, I wanted to make clear that the emails you read, aren't necessarily all in response to one another. If one email is supposed to respond to another one, I'll reference something from that previous email or there will be a 'RE:' in the subject line. I'm sorry if that's confusing, I just figure they probably email each other a lot (yes they _are_ _so_ real!), so we're sort of seeing just a few of the emails here and there. **

A/N3: (last one I promise!) This story is set before _Verdict in the Story_ (where did that title come from anyway? What Story?) So Russ and Max are still in prison.

* * *

**TO:** stripedsocks1989_**at**_gmail. com  
**FROM**: boneswith2phds_**at**_hotmail. com  
**SUBJECT**: Interview

Scrabble your way into Jared's brain? I take it that you two haven't resolved your disagreement yet.

I have another tv interview soon. My publicist thinks it's a good idea to start promoting it now that the movie has begun shooting. I tried to dissuade her, especially after how awful the last one went, but she insists. She's really quite stubborn.

I can't say that I'm looking forward to it, my social inadequacies only seem to be amplified by tv cameras. And this time I won't even have you there to tell me what I did wrong so that I can improve, but I've already prepared an answer for any questions involving children or 'advice' for unpublished authors.

It will be on November 13th, if you're interested in seeing it.

Temperance

--

**Booth Residence  
Pittsburgh, PA  
September 23rd  
12:26pm**

"Damn." Susan swore under her breath, eyes shut tight against the pain.

"Sorry babe." James responded softly, he winced visibly as he continued applying a healing crème to the red, blistered radiation burns that spread across her back.

"Oh, it's alright." She sighed, looking up and out the window. Wishing to get her mind elsewhere, she asked, "How are Seeley and Jared? I feel like I haven't seen them in days."

"They were just in here yesterday."

"I know. It's just…time passes so much slower when I spend all day in bed and sleeping. I hate this."

James nodded but she couldn't see him. "They're doing what they're always doing. Fighting."

Susan frowned, "I should talk to them, try and found out what's wrong."

"Why? They've always fought and they've always worked it out."

Susan shook her head, wig and scarf-less as she would only be in front of him. "It's different now, can't you tell? It's not like when they were children and they fought over the TV remote. It's deeper."

James nodded. "I've noticed. But there's nothing we can do."

"What do you mean? We're their parents. We'll punish them."

"Oh really? They're grown men, how do you propose to do that?" James smiled softly at her indignant expression.

"I'm their mother; I can still lay down the hammer if I want to."

Rascal, who sat beside Susan's feet on the floor, looked up inquisitively at the irritation in her voice.

James nodded again, smiling as he turned her gently back to face away from him and he continued tending to the ugly burns, "I'm sure you would try and find a way, but…you can't. Not this time."

"What? Why not?" Her frown deepened. They were her sons; she'd knock their heads together if she darn well pleased, _especially_ if they needed it.

"You just said why Suze. They're not kids anymore, and they are not fighting because they don't know how to share. There's something else going on and it's up to them to fix it." He felt her bare shoulders slump beneath his hands and he leaned forward, twisting to look at her face, "okay?"

She looked at him for a long time, wishing she didn't understand his point of view as much as she did. She turned away and again looked outside at the cloudless blue sky.

"I just hate to see them hurting."

Joseph sat back, squeezed her shoulders in understanding and set to finish his task.

--

**Booth Residence  
Pittsburgh, PA  
September 25th  
10:45am**

Jared's mind awoke before his eyes, and he quickly discovered that his brain was angry. He was still in his clothes that smelt of beer and sweat, lying face down on the small twin bed that was shoved in between the outside wall and the washing machine.

Groaning, he opened one eye, not too surprised to find his surroundings blurry and spinning. Across from him he saw the table used to fold clothes fresh from the dryer, and below it, his duffel bag looking as if he'd just picked up the bottom and dumped the clothes on the floor.

He screwed his eyes shut at the sight of sun filtering in through the small window as it fell across his face. He felt as if his skull had exploded and the only thing keeping his brain from leaking everywhere was his tightly gelled hair.

Slowly, he rolled of the bed and, clutching his head, he staggered across the room, opened his door and half walked, half dragged himself to the kitchen.

Had he been a religious man, he might have thanked God for the hang-over strength aspirin he found there. He turned on the faucet and stuck his mouth under the stream of water, gulping it into his parched throat.

Feeling a little more awake and a little less like a semi had parked on his head all night, he straightened and made a face at the foul smell surrounding him. He shuffled back across the dining room to the laundry room to find a clean shirt. He swore when he remembered he'd been putting off doing laundry and had no clean clothes, ironic since he slept not three feet from the washer and dryer.

Though it pained him to do so, he rolled his eyes at himself and started the long, difficult task of scaling the stairs. He gripped the banister when he started to sway and made another pained face, deciding he would rather accompany his ex-girlfriend and her three high-maintenance friends to a shoe store during a sale than try to climb those stairs in that moment.

Finally, after what felt like years, he was at his old bedroom door and opened it quietly, holding his breath and hoping his mother was asleep. He let out a sigh of relief when her rhythmic breathing reached his ears and he moved as quickly as he could across the room to his dresser, taking great pains not to make the dresser drawers squeak.

"Jared?" his mother asked quietly, rolling over in bed.

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice and quickly finished pulling on his blue 'Basketball is Life' t-shirt.

"Hey," he said awkwardly, "I, um, I didn't mean to wake you. I'll go."

"No, don't go. I wasn't really sleeping anyway."

Jared stopped his exit near the foot of the bed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He could feel his mother's stare on him and made a point not to look in her direction. She'd always been able to read him just a little too well.

"How are you Jared?"

"Fine. You?"

"I'm alright," she paused, "how are things with you and Seeley?"

He froze and pursed his lips, not wanting to lie to his mother, he changed the subject, "you up for a little walk?"

She knew he was avoiding the question, but there was something like excitement in his voice, so she took the bait. "Why? Where do you want to take me?"

Jared shrugged, "I've just got a little surprise. Do you want help?" He offered as she started to get up from the bed.

"No, I'm not an invalid, thank you very much" She protested. Even so, she took her time getting out of the bed, her energy levels far below normal. Jared helped her with her robe and they slowly made their way across the foyer to the master bedroom door.

"Close your eyes." He said before opening it. After rolling them, his mother did.

Only his father had slept in the room recently, and only every once in a while, preferring to share the small twin bed in Jared's room to sleeping alone in the large queen bed of his own. This left everything largely as it had been a few months ago, before all hell broke loose in their world.

The walls were painted the same light shade of pink as Jared remembered. There was white dresser and armoire as well as the cast iron bed that had been Jared's great grandmother's. Where the white rose comforter had been there was now a plain brown blanket, the comforter having taken up residence in Jared's room with his mother.

"Okay, stand here and just wait a second." Jared placed Susan in the middle of the floor facing the glass French doors that opened out onto a second floor balcony.

"What are you doing Jared?" His mother asked, a smile in her voice as she knitted her eyebrows together, feeling his presence beside her leave.

"No peeking," was his only response.

She felt him return to her side and instinctively reached for his hand. She could smell fresh air and fresh cut grass and knew he'd opened the doors, "can I open my eyes now?"

Jared smiled at her impatience, "Yes. Open them."

When she did, the look of surprise, followed by sheer joy on her face erased all traces of his hang over.

"Oh Jared," she started to move toward the balcony, "it's beautiful."

Jared stuck his hands back in his pockets, and grinned. On the balcony he'd built a few planters boxes at a height so she wouldn't have to bend over, and filled them with flowers and herbs he knew she liked to grow.

"I know it's kind of late in the season and it's getting cold but I thought, you know, what the hell, "he shrugged, "if you can't get to your garden, I'll bring the garden to you. I know how much you love it and all."

She reached out and touched the leaves on a basil plant and turned back to look at him. "Come here," she ordered quietly.

Slowly, Jared moved toward her, rambling the entire time, "You've got a bird bath over there. I had to move out a couple of the chairs to make room but I left one for you. I brought up your gloves and a trowel and stuff from the shed and you just let me know and I'll fill your watering can whenever you want. Maybe dad and I can cover this place or something so you can keep them alive all year long, I don't know." He stopped when he reached her and finally met her eyes. "Do you, I mean…is it alright?" he asked quietly, the confident tone he'd been using was gone, replaced by that of a young boy seeking his mother's approval.

With tears in her eyes, Susan cupped Jared's cheeks and smiled. "I love it. Thank you, Jared."

He smiled and removed his hands from his pockets to he could hug her.

"You're welcome."

--

**Booth Residence  
Pittsburgh, PA  
September ****23rd**  
**12:33pm**

Booth shoved the vacuum into the living room closet with more force than necessary, causing a pile of snow gloves and hats to fall off the top shelf and scatter at his feet. He cursed quietly, gathered them, and threw them back up on the shelf and quickly shut the door.

That done, he turned to go to the basement and inadvertently met Jared's eyes as he came out of the laundry room, no doubt just waking up after his lateness the night before. Almost immediately Jared looked away, out of guilt or anger, neither was sure. He walked straight toward the kitchen, but to do so had to pass directly in front of his brother.

"Jared."

His shoulders slumped; he should have known Seeley wouldn't make this easy on him. He never did. "What?"

Booth sighed heavily and approached him. He leaned on one of the dining room chairs.

"I just…I guess I'm…" he began, he caught Jared's flickered gaze, his jaw set in an unyielding defiance. Booth shook his head, he was too tired for this, "I got those parts you asked for while I was in town. I put them in the garage."

Jared seemed surprised, but nodded, "Okay. Thanks." He said shortly, and quickly left for the kitchen.

Booth took another deep breath, laced his hands and rested them on the top of his head. Having forgotten why he was upstairs, he rolled his eyes at himself and started toward the basement to give that malfunctioning furnace a good stern talking to.

--

"What are you doing?"

Booth looked over his shoulder and then back. "Hey Dad. Just tightening this face plate on the furnace, it was rattling earlier, drove me crazy."

"Oh. Okay." James nodded but stayed at the bottom of the basement steps.

Booth looked again and saw his father still there, "Was there something else?"

James shrugged and sat on the third step from the bottom, "I just finished tending to your mother, she's gotten some burns from the radiation."

Booth stood, looking serious. "Is she okay?"

James nodded and rubbed his face. "She'll be fine. She's resting."

Booth nodded, looking down at the screwdriver in his hands.

"I think we should go out. Your brother and you and me. I feel like I haven't left this house in years."

Booth looked thoughtful, leaning against the deep freezer beside him. "Yeah, I know the feeling, but what about mom?"

"She's got a friend who's been bugging me to come visit her. I think they can handle an afternoon together."

"Okay, how about bowling?"

James smiled, "that sounds great. I'm sure Jared isn't doing anything."

"Cool." Booth turned to put away his tools.

"It's settled then, when you're mother gets done with her radiation treatments, the Booth men will go bowling."

Booth stopped, "Dad wait. I can't. I'm going back to DC when mom's done with her radiation."

James frowned, "What, you can't stay one extra day?"

Booth hesitated, "Well, I mean I have a life to get back to dad. Parker and my team. I mean, I don't-" he tried to explain in a way his father would understand.

James' frown only deepened, "Of course. Wouldn't want to keep you from your _life_." He said the last word with distaste and ascended the stairs quickly, leaving Booth to regret his words and his decision.

--

**Booth Residence  
****Pittsburgh, PA  
****September 25th  
****8:16pm**

"Hey."

Jared looked up from the workbench on the far wall of the garage and saw his brother standing in the doorway. He looked back down at his hands where he'd disassembled his .9 mil and was cleaning it. "Hey. What are you doing out here?"

Booth shrugged and moved further inside the garage, feeling that not getting his head bitten off for being there was as good as an invitation as any. "Mom's sleeping again and Dad went to refill one of her prescriptions. I was bored, so I figured I'd come see what you were doing."

Jared nodded but didn't respond, silently, almost obsessively continuing with his task. The giant invisible wall that had been erected between them outside the police station two days before was still standing strong.

The silence stretched out for miles between them, both sure they owed the other an apology but neither was willing to take the first step. Booth wandered around for a while, fidgeting with tools and studying Shelby intensely. It looked as though Jared had washed her earlier.

"I just got off the phone with Parker." He said finally.

Jared looked up; this was a topic they could broach. Their love for the little boy was common ground, perhaps the only one of its kind, "Really? How is he?"

"He's good. He said they were talking about 'families' today in school and decided he wanted a little brother," Jared tensed slightly but Booth continued, pretending not to notice, "Rebecca told him that she couldn't help him in that regard and that if he really wanted one, he'd have to talk to me."

Jared gave him a sympathetic look. "Nice."

"Yeah, I thought so," Booth rolled his eyes, he plucked a half-round file off the wall and began rotating it between his fingers, "I'll have to thank her for that when I get back."

Jared began reassembling his gun, "So what'd you tell him?"

"Ah, I distracted him by promising to take him to a ball game when I got back."

"Just as well, Parker doesn't need that kind of trouble anyway."

Booth paused and looked up at his brother for the first time, though Jared was busy checking to make sure is gun was put together correctly and didn't see. He wondered if he ever knew how proud he was of him. He was a good man, his little brother. A pain in the ass most of the time, but a damn good man.

"I don't know," Booth began casually, "It wasn't all bad, right? I mean, having a brother means there's always somebody to hang out with, so there's always something to do. And somebody's always got your back. We had some crazy times, you know?"

Jared grinned and flicked his gaze over, "That's true. We raised hell."

Booth nodded, a matching grin of his own on his face. "You remember when we were suspended? In the ninth grade?"

Jared frowned for a moment in thought, he'd been suspended lots of times in high school, but only once had he been suspended at the same time as his brother. His smile was renewed as he recalled it, "when we crossed the wires in Mr. Macon's car so that every time he pushed the brake pedal the horn went off?"

Booth started to laugh, nodding, "He was so pissed!"

"We were suspended for three days and were grounded for a month, but it was worth it, man. That guy was such an asshole." Both were laughing now, almost to the point of tears as they braced themselves against the workbench.

When they'd calmed down again Jared finished putting away his things and Booth had wandered out the front of the garage, watching the first of the fireflies as they flickered around the backyard.

"You remember when we got our tattoos?" He asked suddenly.

Jared looked up, surprised by the question. "Yeah. We were drunk, two nights outside Kosovo."

Booth nodded and turned around, "You still got yours?"

Jared lifted the sleeve on his black tee-shirt to reveal the tattoo on his forearm. It was of a skull and crossbones with red eyes and gleaming white teeth, on top it wore a green beret. Behind the skull was a sword that pointed straight up and it was all canopied beneath a green parachute. Under the skull in a black banner it read 'Army Rangers Airborne' in stencil style letters, "It's a real selling point with the ladies." Jared said, with a sly smile.

"I'll bet." Booth responded, rolling his eyes.

"You?"

"Right where I left it." He shrugged, referring to his right upper shoulder.

Jared nodded and returned to his task of changing the oil on Shelby. "So why the trip down memory lane?"

Booth shrugged again, smearing an oil stain on the floor with his boot. "No reason." He sighed and looked up when a cloud moved and big full moon suddenly lit up the whole yard. "So what do you want for dinner?"

"Eh, you know me. I'll eat anything."

"I'll bet that's a big selling point with the ladies too." He responded smoothly.

Jared stopped and turned, meeting Booth grin for grin. "You bet it is."

Booth shook his head and headed for the house. "I'm ordering pizza."

"No mushrooms!" Jared called urgently.

"I thought you'd eat anything." Booth yelled from the porch, already dialing their local pizza place on his phone.

"I will!" Came the stubborn call from the garage.

Booth shook his head and went inside. "Hi, yeah, I'd like a large pizza with everything, extra mushrooms."

--

**TO**: boneswith2phds_**at**_homail. com  
**FROM**: stripedsocks1989_**at**_gmail. com  
**SUBJECT**: Bored to tears

'Bored to tears', I heard that on a Star Trek episode once…you have heard of Star Trek, right? Not Star Wars, _Star Trek_.

Anyway, that pretty well accurately describes how I feel being back here again. See, my parents don't live in the city of Pittsburgh, more on the outskirts in a small township and around here, outside of joining a bunch of teenagers with a six-pack of beer in a Wal-Mart parking lot, there's not much to do. I could really use a gym right about now. I go jogging for a few miles everyday and do my cardio, but if I don't find a punching bag soon I'm going to use Jared, and he hits back. I mean, I can take the hits, don't get me wrong, it's the trash talk I can't stand.

By the way 'your absence is keenly felt back here in DC'. That's so Bones of you Bones. And I miss you too, your partnership and whatnot.

S.B.


	8. Photograph

**It's Thuuuuuurrrrrssssdddaaaayyyy!! Who missed me? I missed you! Lol, veering from this fandom for a moment...anyone watch Stargate Atlantis? Ronon Dex is SUPREMELY hot. Okay. Sorry. I'm back...:_picturing Booth shirtless_:...**

**Don't forget the timestamps! HUGE thanks to Wonderful Willgurl for betaing this even though she wasn't feeling well.**

**--**

**TO:** stripedsocks1989_**at**_gmail. com  
**FROM**: boneswith2phds_**at**_hotmail. com  
**SUBJECT**: Visiting my father

I went to see Russ and my father yesterday. Russ is excited, he's only got ten more days in jail. My father on the other hand…is my father. He's entirely too upbeat about this whole thing.

I always have to work myself up to going to see him. I'm torn between feeling duty-bound to go because I know he's only there because of me, and feeling betrayed that he's there at all. He killed a man. I have a hard time reconciling with that. I mean, we'll be talking and laughing about some memory from when I was a child, and then the fact that he's wearing an orange jumpsuit and there's an armed guard outside will just hit me and I'll honestly feel a little bit ill, Booth. Every time I go.

Can I tell you something? I hate this. The sooner the trial comes, the better. Whatever the outcome. I just hate being in this…limbo.

Bones

--

**Booth's Residence  
Washington DC  
September 26th  
6:56pm**

When she entered his apartment she got chills, feeling as if she was intruding on his privacy by being there when he was not. She shook it off though, telling herself that she had a key and he had asked her to pick up his mail for him. Therefore, she was definitely not trespassing or stalking or doing anything else creepy that might explain being in someone's house while they are not in town.

She moved to put the envelopes on a nearby table and, out of curiosity, began flipping through them. A couple bills, one from the phone company, one from his landlord. A credit card offer, something from the Army stamped with 'Payment Enclosed'. There were also two magazines, The Rolling Stone and Maxim, which had a clear and provocative image of a busty woman named 'Angelina Jolie' on the cover. She raised her eyebrows; Booth hadn't struck her as the pornography type. Shrugging, she set that one aside as well and was left with just one envelope. It was square and plain white, but made with a much better quality paper than normal business envelopes. It was from someone named 'Nana Booth' in Arizona. She thought that to be an unusual name, but considering her partner's first name, she wouldn't have been surprised if the Booth family in general had an affinity for unusual names. On the back just above where it had been sealed were two words written in metallic ink and a fancy script font. 'Happy Birthday'.

A strange sinking feeling in her stomach made her bite her lip and frown. She suddenly remembered that Booth had mentioned his birthday was in September and from the looks of this envelope, she had missed it. She realized uncomfortable feeling she was getting was guilt, because not once in their three year partnership, had Booth ever forgotten her birthday. And yet that was exactly what she had done to him. She gingerly set the envelope on top of the others and moved away from it, feeling two inches tall.

She started for the door, racking her brain for a gift she could get him and overnight to Pittsburgh. Her phone vibrated in her back pocket as she muttered to herself things she knew Booth would like.

"Hockey…Guns…the FBI…Parker, Hello?"

"Parker? Is he with you?"

"No, Ange, I was just thinking about Booth. What's up?"

"Thinking about him, huh? And were his lips and tongue anywhere in those thoughts?"

Brennan almost smiled. How her best friend managed to turn a conversation into sexual innuendo in a matter of moments was simply mind boggling, "Angela…"

"Okay, okay. I just called to see if you were near a tv. Agent Donner is giving his press conference now that we've closed the case."

Brennan looked around and saw the remote to Booth's big screen tv sitting on the coffee table beside a coaster and a tv guide.

"What channel?"

"Six," she paused, "I gotta say, the camera loves him."

Brennan didn't respond, instead turning up the volume on the station. Donner stood at a wooden podium, hair neatly combed to one side wearing a plain black tie. The only kind he owned.

"…_as stated earlier, Mark, there is no reason to believe the killer had any accomplices. This was an isolated and unfortunate crime committed by one disturbed individual. Next question._"

"How long has this been on?" Brennan asked. She set aside her purse and keys and sat on the couch, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Only a few minutes I think."

"_Well, the murder used a particular weapon that left identifying marks on the flesh and bone, the FBI forensics team was able to make a connection between those marks and the Tri-County Cattle Ranch where Mr. Owen was employed_…"

Brennan was appalled, "The _**FBI**_ made the connection? Since when does Zach work for the FBI?"

"I don't think he's referring to Zach, Sweetie." Angela said, sounding a bit offended herself.

"This is unbelievable," Brennan ranted after listening to a bit more, "He's not mentioning the team or the Jeffersonian at all! Booth _always_ gives half the credit to the lab. Always."

"I know Bren. But he's not Booth, this is a well established fact."

Brennan shook her head. "Cullen will definitely be hearing from me about this," seeing that the press conference was probably not even half over, she said, "Ange, I'll call you back, okay?"

"Sure thing."

There was a click and Brennan hung up her phone, tossing it over near her keys, she kicked off her shoes and leaned back on the couch, grumbling the entire time.

"I can't believe this. This man has no regard for the scientific process!"

--

She hadn't meant to fall asleep. But after the press conference there had been a breaking news story about a hurricane in Guatemala and she'd called a friend in Villa Nueva to see how he was. Thankfully he'd been out on a dig in Egypt at the time and was left unharmed.

After that she'd been flipping channels and had stumbled upon the last half of Superman: The Movie, the original circa 1978. She'd smiled and pulled her legs up under her on the couch, getting comfortable. She and Russ used to love this movie.

And before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep, and had stayed that way for two hours. When the sound of a car horn awoke her, she'd been completely embarrassed to realize where she was and how long she'd been there. So, hastily she'd gathered her thing, slipped on her shoes and raced out the door, the scent of Booth lingering on her clothes to remind her of her weak moment.

And to inexplicable cause her to smile the entire ride home.

--

**Booth Residence  
Pittsburgh, PA  
September 25th  
5:04pm**

Booth coughed a little when he entered the upstairs attic. Dust flew and floated, highlighted by the sun that filtered in through a single circular window on the far side. He and Jared used to love playing in this attic. Their house hadn't been in the family for very long and yet was somehow chock full of memorabilia from each side of the family. Trunks of jewelry and clothing from their grandparents in the early 1920's and 30's used to keep his girl cousins occupied for hours. Jared and Seeley liked to run around playing 'soldier' with his father's antique guns that hadn't worked for years. There was old furniture, more clothes, photo albums galore and hopefully, somewhere, a perfectly good, mint condition computer.

Moving aside a box marked 'Xmas decorations' behind his mother's wedding dress, he stumbled on a box that read 'Booth Family Photos'. Curious, he picked up the album on top and started flipping through it.

The first photo was a classic 1970's Booth family barbeque shot. His father, in long sideburns and his mother in feathered hair, waving for the camera. Below that was a picture of Booth and Jared, aged 6 and 4, grinning as well. Booth smiled nostalgically. He could tell they'd just run through the sprinkler since both looked soaked from head to toe. His front two teeth were missing and he stood two inches taller than Jared, donned in swimming trunks, a scuba mask and flip flops. He had his arm slung around the slim shoulders of his younger brother while Jared gave him bunny ears with two fingers.

Booth flipped through the next few pages and found several pictures of the like. Jared and Booth in Boy Scouts, at summer camp, building a snow fort. And many, many Christmas mornings past. Booth smiled at these and chuckled at the sight of himself giving his younger brother a handful of fluffy snow down the collar, and in the very next shot his father doing the same to him.

After that came the pictures of their teenage years. A picture of Jared and he playing basketball in the driveway came first. Although Jared couldn't have been more than fourteen, Booth knew he had been beaten by him. Booth hadn't won a game against his younger brother since he was ten. There were only a few pictures from this time period, including their proms, eighties in full swing on both the girls Jared and Seeley posed with. Booth remembered Jared's girl better than his own, since he'd only gone out with Sheila Carson once, whereas the girl on Jared's arm, Madison Harms, was Jared's girlfriend from his sophomore year of high school through to his junior year of college until he found out that she'd cheated on him with more than half of his own basketball teammates. Booth frowned at the picture of 17-year-old Madison. He held no doubt that her betrayal was one of the many reasons Jared was so relationship challenged as an adult.

More pictures of small Booth family Christmases, Thanksgivings and Easters followed, until there was a slight jump in the age of pictures, no doubt from when the two were overseas. Then came pictures of Booth with Rebecca and then a slightly yellowed photo of Grandpa James and Grandma Susan Booth as they held their grandson for the first time. After that were several pictures of toddler Parker in his grandparent's house, running around with some of his second cousins. Seeing his son hamming for the camera, as he so often did, only made Booth feel the length since the last time he'd seen him more acutely, and he flipped through the pages quickly, wishing the pain to subside.

There was a noticeable lack of recent pictures with Jared, as he rarely returned home during the year and only for a few hours at a time on holidays. But in the pictures he was in, Booth couldn't help but notice the shadows that seemed to lurk in his every pore, despite a well-intentioned smile.

Booth looked up a moment and took a deep breath, blinking rapidly; convinced it was the dust in the air that had his eyes watering. Curious and not having much of anything better to do; he reached further into the box and found another photo album. He settled on the floor and turned so that the sun illuminated the pictures. This album had an even more impressive layer of dust on it and as testament to its age, the cover creaked and cracked in protest when opened.

The first picture was at least thirty years old, thirty-eight to be exact; it was his father and mother on their wedding day. James thankfully wasn't wearing the classic 1970s blue tux, but he had opted for the ruffled shirt. His mother on the other hand, managed to look timeless and graceful, giving a pure joy smile to the camera. He flipped past these and was able to find a few pictures of himself in a high chair, smearing baby food across his tray and face, a broad smile on his toothless mouth that reminded him a bit of Parker. After that came more of himself and then himself and baby Jared, who's dark eyes seemed to be saying 'I've got a bad idea that sounds like fun' more than the typical 'I'm a happy baby' smile one usually saw.

Having finished looking, Booth slowly got off the floor, he'd been sitting for a while and his joints popped with the movement. He started to put the two albums away, when a handful of loose photos fell out and fluttered to his feet. He gathered them leaned on a nearby steamer trunk. Almost immediately he recognized the photos, and realized why they weren't in an album meticulously protected like his mother loved to do. He had slipped these very photos into the album himself, nearly a decade ago. His mother had probably never seen them, and hopefully never would. There were only three.

The first was of two people Booth hardly recognized. Himself and Jared, dressed in fatigues on their last day of boot camp, taken by a mutual friend of theirs also in the army. Booth wore aviator sunglasses, smiling at the camera, Jared wore a fatigue helmet, his arm slung around the shoulders of his brother, flipping the bird at the camera with his signature 'I'm too cute to care' grin. The reason his mother would never see that picture was obvious.

The next photo, probably taken by the same friend, showed them in their bunks at camp. They were dressed in matching regulation khaki tees, camouflage pants and black boots. Booth was in the bottom bunk writing a letter, probably to Rebecca, Jared was in the top, flipping through a Playboy.

The last photo was again of Booth and Jared but he wasn't sure who had taken it. He could tell without looking at the date written on the back when this photo had been taken. It was on the plane on their way home from the gulf. After being MIA for nearly four weeks and spending another two in a French hospital, he and his brother looked a little worse for wear. Though they were sitting next to each other in the small passenger plane, one could practically see the miles of space that stretched between them. Facing toward the windows on either side, neither was looking at the camera yet it was visibly evident that neither had slept well in weeks. Booth still sported a cast on his left arm, a brace on his knee and bandages on his head and jaw. Jared had scars of his own, ones that were still bleeding after all this time.

Booth dropped his head and let the photos slip from his fingers to the floor, aware that the tears that had threatened him before were now dropping casually from his lashes and that his hands were shaking. Not wanting his mother to ever find those pictures, he slipped them into his pocket.. He stood and stretched, when he looked up he saw the sun had almost completely disappeared from the sky and had lit up in brilliant shades of red and orange in the sunset.

He took another quick glance around and located the computer. He picked up the tower, but decided to come back for the screen and keyboard later. Down on the second floor he set aside the computer tower and went to Jared's old bedroom to find out if his mother wanted anything to eat.

"Mom?" He knocked softly and opened the door, "Mom do you-"

He swallowed hard at the sight before him. His father had evidently come in some time earlier and was curled of on the small twin size bed next to his mother, both sleeping soundly. Though neither looked exactly peaceful in their sleep, the protective way James clung to Susan was a gesture Booth recognized and a sudden flash of homesick ripped through him.

Quietly he closed the door again and wandered back across the foyer near the stairs, looking out a window over the backyard. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and speed-dialed her number.

"Hi you've reached Dr. Temperance Brennan, please leave a detailed message and I'll return your call as soon as possible."

Her clear and concise message usually made him smile, because it was so like her to want to be plainly understood. But he didn't smile this time, the sound of her voice only sharpened a pain he was already trying to ignore.

"Hey Bones," he began slowly, quietly when the mechanical beep chirped in his ear, "its' me. I, uh, I was just calling to see how you are and…I mean, I just had a couple minutes on my hands and I was thinking about…home. And you and the squints and everything. I just wanted to, uh, let you know I'm alright, you know? I'm fine." He sighed heavily and shrugged as if she was standing there right in front of him, giving him that puzzled expression she so often wore. "I guess that's it. I'll email you later or something, okay? Bye."

He flipped shut his phone and let his arm hang loosely at his side for a moment, turning the small object over and over in his hand while he stared blankly at the red and orange sky.

His stomach growled and he realized it had been nearly six hours since he last ate. He went downstairs to see if there was anything to eat. As he passed the open kitchen window he heard Jared rummaging around in the garage.

--

**Booth Residence  
Pittsburgh, PA  
September 27th  
3:54am**

Booth's eyes rolled open and he was staring at his clock radio. Glowing red numbers mocked him with the early morning hour. He groaned out loud and pressed his face into his pillow. There was once a time when he could get a full night's sleep, he was sure of it. It hadn't happened often, but it _had_ happened.

Knowing sleep was not in his immediate future, he slowly picked himself up off his bed, adjusting his jeans and t-shirt that he'd accidentally slept in, which now felt stiff and uncomfortable.

His stomach growled at its emptiness and he quickly moved toward the stairs, intending to finish off a bowl of spaghetti he'd left in the fridge earlier. At the bottom of the stairs he frowned when he saw the small light over the sink was on. A shadow moved across the light and then back again and he could tell by the build at the slight limp that it was Jared.

As he got closer he could hear pieces of the conversation, although all he could tell was that he was arguing with someone named 'Kim'. Abruptly, the call ended and Jared cursed before shutting his phone and slamming it on the countertop.

Casually as he could, Booth entered the room; he could feel the tension coming off Jared in waves.

While he extracted his food and prepared it for the microwave, he watched Jared carefully out of the corner of his eye. He stood with his palms on the countertop, elbows rigid and grinding his teeth. Booth raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything at first.

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the counter and looked at his younger brother, "I thought you and Kim broke up."

Jared's shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh but he didn't turn. Although both the phrases 'I_ can't believe you were eavesdropping'_ and '_it's none of your damn business'_ ran through his mind, he decided he didn't really feel like fighting with his brother that night.

"We weren't really broken up," he turned pulling himself up onto the counter, leaning back against the kitchen cabinets and taking a long drag off a glass of bourbon he'd produced from beside him, "we were just taking a break. A breather for a while. She's a federal prosecutor so she works long hours, and I never know when I'll be on a job or for how long. Sometimes we just…don't have the time or energy for anything. Well, not _anything_…" He stopped and looked at Booth meaningfully, who rolled his eyes.

"That's never a problem is it?" Booth asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Jared shook his head as the humor faded, "No. But I just…I really thought she and I…that we were…" he turned and looked again at his phone, sitting quietly beside him and his features darkened, hardened.

"She ended it?"

Jared's nod was imperceptible. "Just now. She said she found someone else."

Booth's shoulders sagged, genuinely feeling sorry for his brother. He knew from experience how hard relationships were for his brother. In fact, he knew only one other heart that was so closely guarded, the one he was currently falling for. "Listen Jared, I'm sorry-"

"It's funny, you know?" Jared cut him off, not wanting the pity Booth was offering, "Mom and Dad have been happily married for what, 38 years now? The epitome of what _to_ do in a relationship. So how come you and I are such screw ups in that area?"

Booth smiled, walking across the kitchen, he retrieved his spaghetti and added some parmesan cheese from the refrigerator door, "Hey, I don't know about you but I got no problem finding girls, it's the keeping them part that I need to work on."

"You don't gotta tell me about it. I've dated all kinds of girls but nobody I ever thought, you know…_forever_. I mean, not even Kim. Not really."

"Yeah," Booth nodded thoughtfully, winding the long noodles onto his fork, "well, I mean, I thought I did a few times but…well, I mean, there's always a possibility I guess."

Jared half smiled, half smirked as he looked over, "What do you mean? You met someone?"

"No. I mean, yes. No."

"C'mon Seel, what's up? What's her name?" Jared grinned full on this time, a boyhood grin that people rarely saw.

"I'm not sure I want to say." Booth teased, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at his brother's excitement.

"Gimme a break, I'm your brother."

"Is that supposed to help your case?" Booth laughed at Jared's frustrated expression, "Fine. It's Bones."

"Bones? What is she, a dog?" Jared asked, making a face.

"Shut up." Booth threw a balled up napkin at his brother, "she's my partner."

"Your partner? I thought his name was Mike."

"Not my FBI partner, and he hasn't been my partner for years."

"Alright, then who is Bones? I mean I only see you a few times a year on Christmas and stuff. How am I supposed to know?" he asked, exasperated. Raising his hands, he shot the balled up napkin at the trash can ten feet away. With perfect technique and follow-through, it went in easily.

_Nothing but net. _Jared thought triumphantly, _I still got it._

"Fine. Temperance Brennan." Booth said finally, shoveling a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth to keep himself from expounding. With any luck, his brother had never heard of her. But apparently lady luck had left the building.

"Temperance Brennan? What a mouthful…wait, isn't that that famous author?"

"Among other things. She's also a genius scientist and forensic anthropologist _and_ my partner."

"Wow, I've seen her books around. She's hot."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, I just mean that she's a step up for sure." Jared shook his head downing the rest of his drink.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Booth asked, his voice gaining a bit of an edge. This had been the most normal interaction he and his brother had had in years. And he'd let his guard down a bit, but Jared's tone had him wondering if that had been a mistake.

"Nothing. I only mean she's a lot better – different – hotter, whatever, than some of the other chicks you usually date." Jared's tone remained nonchalant. As usual, he was completely unaware, until it was too late, that he'd crossed a line.

"Hey, why don't you learn to shut that big mouth of yours, huh? That's the mother of my son you're talking about." Booth snapped, setting aside his now forgotten spaghetti, "And besides, where the hell do you, Mr. I'll-sleep-with-anything-with-a -pulse, get off passing judgment?"

"Whoa, man, c'mon. You know I love Becca. I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, right. You're a real piece of work, you know that?" In a huff, Booth left the room and stalked to the stairs.

"Seeley." Jared called, but it was no use. Closing his eyes, he let his head drop back and bang against the kitchen cabinets, "Great job alienating everyone you know in one fell swoop, smart guy. You're a real charmer."

With a sigh, he got down off the counter and started to pour himself another glass of bourbon, but stopped.

"Fuck it." He took the bottle, left the glass, and made his way to his room.

--

**TO**: boneswith2phds_**at**_homail. com  
**FROM**: stripedsocks1989_**at**_gmail. com  
**SUBJECT**: RE: Visiting my father

Thanks for the tape of Parker's play Bones! I just got it today and watched it for the first time. You did a great job, I'm sure you had more important things to do so I really appreciate that you did this. It means a lot.

I'm glad you're continuing to see your father. It's important, but I'm sorry it upsets you so much. If you wanted, I'd be willing to come with you sometime…if you want, if nothing else than to try and bridge the gap. You live in a world of black & white, Bones and your father is shades of gray. That's a world I understand.

How are Amy and the girls doing? Did they find an apartment in DC or are they planning to go somewhere else when Russ gets out?

S.B.

--

_TBC_


	9. NOTICE

I'm sorry for the delay and the subsequent gap in updates, I honestly meant to post an explanation much sooner than this. In any case, personal circumstances that are, at this point, beyond my control have made it impossible for me to continue with this, or any fic, right now. So, for right now, all my unfinished fics and collaborations are on **Hiatus until further notice**. I'm sorry to leave you in the middle, it was never my intention, I hope to continue at some point in the future. If and when I do, you all will be among the first to know...probably due to a sudden influx of multi-chaps, oneshots and songfics from me. Much luv to you all!

I Hart Booth


End file.
